What Do You Mean By, Dragonborn?
by Eternal War
Summary: A warrior, no matter what happens to their mind, still remembers how to perform on a fundamental level, how to rely passively upon their base instincts. A solider, on the other-hand passively forgoes basic instinct and commits logic to their performance. It takes great strength to keep your head about you, yeah? Well, what about a person, who could claim to be both?
1. prologue

The chilled air brushed against his skin, easily brushing past the thin cloth that covered him in a basic manner. He blinked, opening his eyes for what seemed like the first time in ages, the lids threating to close once more. His vison sharpened near instantly, giving him a full view of dull brown wooden planks beneath his feet. A small shock shook the boards and himself, and he moved his gaze upon his clothed legs, covered by a pair of poorly sized pants, that split heavily at the edges. He brought his hand upwards to scratch at his face, only to find the other following sharply, held shackled in steel clasp that were tethered by a short amount of chain. His movement sparked the interest of the man across from him.

"Hey, you're awake." He looked up at the sound of the voice, to be met with a man sitting across from him, clothed in much better attire, that of leather and chainmail in cool blue and light browns, however, the man's hands were bound such as his, albeit with rope instead of cuffs. He had dirty blonde hair that rested at shoulder height, and threatened to flow down his back if not well groomed. His face was rugged, a little bit of stubble and dirt adding to the complexion beneath those blue eyes. He found himself looking down at the man as he straightened his back, his head swiveling around slowly to gain a better understanding of his surroundings. What he found surprised him.

He was stationed in the back of a wooden cart, that was making headway down a cobblestone road, the last of three before it, each filled with men and women similarly dressed as the man who spoke to him. Their drivers were attired in reds atop their leather armor, their attention focused upon controlling the horses down the path. He and the occupants of the carts were prisoners, that much was clear. He returned his attention to the occupants of his own cart over the convoy just as the previous prisoner began speaking again."You walked into that Imperial ambush," the man continued, "just like us and that horse thief over there." He gestured with his shoulder at the man sitting next to him, who was clothed in rags much similar to His own, but with an added shirt.

"Damn you Stormcloaks," he began, looking at the man beside him, "Before you came along the empire was nice and lax, I would have been halfway to Hammerfell by now." he spat out, "You and me, we shouldn't be here," he says, looking at Him now, "You have to tell them we aren't with them." The thief didn't get a reply, and instead, turned his focus to the man across from him, who was staring at him from his bent over position. "What's his problem?"

"Watch your tongue!" the first man shouted, "that's Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High king of Skyrim." The man, or rather, Jarl in question was clad in a much more elaborate and well armored version of the first man's armor, even going so far as to have a cloak of dark blue pelt hanging from his shoulders. He had hair similar to the first man, however his was shorted and was braided. His mouth was covered by a dirty rag, and he shifted a bit to nod in appreciation to the man.

"Ulfric Stormcloak? You're leader of the rebellion! If you've been captured... where are they taking us?" the horse thief asked.

"Who knows." the warrior said. He mentally blocked them out, letting the conversation leave his mind in favor of studying the events, as some form of a thought pressured him to. the words and names held no sense, while somewhere familiar like empire, Imperials, and rebellion, he could not tell exactly why, but had a feeling that they meant something important beyond the common means. The words Like Stormcloak, Jarl, and Skyrim however held no meaning to him besides what he could visibly see, the blue armored warriors these so proclaimed "Stormcloaks" and Skyrim, it was the place they were in, then that left one gigantic hole in his memory and a near physical question:

How did I get here?

The convoy passed through wooden gates and stone walls, a place called "Helgen" if the warrior was right, reminiscing about his past while spiting the Imperial's leader; General Tullius, him, and a group known as the Thalmor. A slight bend in the path and suddenly they halt against a wall, and their captors order for them to disembark. "Come on, lets not keep the God's waiting." The Jarl is the first one off, followed by the horse thief, pausing to step down.

He simply jumped down, his impact shaking the ground, and causing both the rest of the prisoners and the duo before him to stare. He stood a good two feet taller than the Jarl, the pants stretching to an almost uncomfortable state as they held his frame. The warrior jumped down and stood beside him, turning his head forward, his leather boots slapping against the cobblestone. the first one to break their eyes away was the Imperial with a book, and his female counterpart.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm" he called, marking in his book with a quill as the jarl marched toward a clearing off to the side, his head held high despite the gag and bindings that hampered his movement.

"It was an honor, Jarl Ulfric." said the warrior as the Jarl walked away.

"Ralof," the book marker continued, "Of Riverwood." The warrior followed in the direction of his Jarl. Head held high in a similar manner, he approached to the side of the Jarl with several of his fellow brothers and sisters, yet not a word was said between them.

Next, came the other man in rough spun clothing, his dark brown hair greased with a slight sheen of sweat despite the nip in the air. His eyes wandered between the walls and towers, to the clearing where the other prisoners were gathered, to the two imperials in front of him. "Lokir of Rorrikstead" called the ledger. It was clear as day that he was at the end of his wits, unwilling to face the punishment as natural instincts over rode logical thinking. "You can't do this-s," he stammered out, his voice hoarse as if he had done nothing but yell for the past few minutes, "I'm not with them!" he said, breaking past the armored woman before she could draw upon him.

"Archers!" she called, turning to watch as the thief ran up the pathway back towards the gates. His feet hammered away as he ate of the ground, desperately trying not to trip over himself in the rough spun rags. He reached about 20 feet, before he was brought down, two arrows piercing his chest. he cried out, his feet tripping up, and fell face first to the ground, dead. Two archers at the base of another tower held their bows at the ready. The imperials did nothing but impassively stare at the body of Lokir before turning back to him. The ledger turned away from the carcace, and settled his eyes upon His face.

"And who, are you?"

* * *

 **Yeah, it's going to be one of these stories, with some wack 2nd/3rd person style of character. I must say this before giving this out; this story is not about "Oh, blah blah I wanna see a 40k character beat everything in a fantasy realm to a bloody pulp" no, this story is about character creativity, and also a personal challenge to see if I can still remain imaginative, however, part of this requires you guys, readers, to give in part of this. What I want from you is to guide the story. The first few chapters of this story will be based around the opening quest, and up to climbing High Horathgar. After this, I want recommendation on which main quest to go after such as the Civil War, Dawn guard, Dawnstar nightmare, or Morthal vampires. The restrictions upon these quest are as follows: The quest cannot be of an evil persuasion such as Thieves guild or Black Hand nor can it be neutral quest turn negative such as Dawn guard going to Vampire side. (no Mage Guild either, magic from the Main Character is going to be heavily limited.) If you haven't figured it out by the blatant height the main character is a Space marine, and his Chapter will be revealed next chapter. (hint, Title related) As for the lack of weapons, armor, or blatant hatred, Just assume warp fuckery, along with a nearly full mind wipe. (Black Carapace has been removed, but geneseed and other organs still remains. As well as his memory basically being non-existent however, passive built in reactions/ideals/thought processes from years of hypno-therapy and fighting leave a past that is not all their but rather wisp, which will help shape a few things in the story as well as create an interesting OC that is not fully brainwashed, but is not a truly imaginative self insertion of moral compasses and ideals of the writer. I'll explain better in later notes. ) It's going to be a little hard to balance it out, but if you guys have any ideas, feel free to say something. That being said, sorry this note is so long, however, I'll be starting on the other chapter for this before the end of the weekend.**


	2. Part 1, Chapter 1: Prisoner of Helgan

The armored Captain looked over at her subordinate, a perplexed look upon her face. The Ledger simply looked back at her, an eyebrow raised in confusion before returning his stare to the man in front of him, an expectant look upon his face. He was awaiting an answer.

 **"Krassus"** He spoke, lips moving slowly, as if the name was foreign to him, and in some ways it was, a memory brought forth to the front of his mind by some unspoken reason. It felt right to use it, but for some reason, it felt as if he had not used it in years. The thought could wait, for the populace of Helgen was now gazing at him, curiosity alight in their eyes. For him it felt as if he had simply spoken as if in private conversation with someone, but for both the prisoners and the captors, it had seemed as if the very mountains had shifted to speak his name, carrying his voice across the keep. The winds whistled for a few moments, before being broken by the hushed whispers and the scratching of a quill upon parchment.

"Captain," the man said after marking down his name, looking back at his commander, whose eyes had steeled themselves as she gazed upon the massive man in front of her," His name is not on the list, what should we do?"

She gazed at Him for a few moments more before electing to respond. "Forget the list, he goes to the Block too." The captain turned away, marching off to the side as the ledger returned his gaze to Him, a frown creasing his lips as he marked yet another note upon the parchment.

"I'm sorry prisoner, but at least you'll die here, in your homeland." The man said, sadness and acceptance filling his voice even as he looked up at Him. He gestured towards the clearing with the rest of the prisoners, who had finished gathering before the wooden block and basket. He moved, arms held before him, his footsteps unnaturally quiet for a man of his size. He filled the empty spot remaining and sized the people across the line up. The first were two of the imperial soldiers, armed in a manner similar to the Book Keeper, with short swords at their sides, they stood on each of the flanks. The next was the Captain, who had condemned him to the line. The remaining three were different, one, a woman of short stature clad in yellow and orange robes, her hood draw above her head, the other was a man clad in black, his wear covered in metal rings and a horned cap that stood up, with only two eyeholes and a mouth to expose his beard. He held aloft a massive axe in a single hand, it's blade sharp and gleaming in the harsh daylight, before him sat a carved block at knee height with a basket in front of it.

The final man was of darker complexion, similar to the captain from before, he had several stress lines crossing his face, and a scar upon his nose. his hair was short cut and hugged his scalp, but had lost its color some time ago and was now a light grey. He wore leather armor, but it's seams were adorned with gold, alongside a massive imprint of a dragon upon his chest. It was of good craft, and was person fit too. A small cloak, held upon his shoulders by gold clasp listed down to his knees and swayed slightly as he broke the line. He crossed the clearing to come be for Ulfric, their gazed locked as they sized each other up. He opened his mouth to speak

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." he said, his voice harsh as it cut through the sounds of the clearing, Ulfric merely grunted in response, the gag still placed upon his mouth. Continuing on, he spoke "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace." His words were spoken with a formality and finality alike, his victory near completion against these Stormcloaks. The light within his eyes were not of happiness, but of contempt. The tension and silence in wake of the man's statement was broken by a faint sound upon the mountains.

"What was that?" one of the soldiers on the flanks asked, looking about for the source.

"it was nothing, carry on." the leader said, before stepped back and turning to the woman in robes. "Give them their last rites."

The woman simply nodded, before raising her arms, and began to speak. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nim, our beloved..." she began, only to be interrupted by one of the Stormcloaks.

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with." he said, approaching the block. the priestess mutters in reply "As you wish." as he stops before the block. The captain steps behind him, a hand upon his shoulder as she forces him down to his knees. He speaks again as he bends over and rest his chest upon the block, before looking at the man in black.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning." he begins, contempt and arrogance filling his voice even as the headsman begins to raise his axe, "My Ancestors are smiling down upon me Imperials, can you say the same?" The execution had brought his axe above his head, at a zenith, and with a push brought it falling down upon the Stormcloak's head, shaving it clear off, allowing it to fall within the basket with a slight 'thump'. An insult is thrown out from the spectators beyond the clearing, before being quelled by a single word: Justice. Krassus knew of justice, and did not fully understand the implications upon the lifeless body at the block. What justice was their to kill a man fighting for his own home? The captain pushed the man's corpse away from the block, before looking and pointing at Him.

"Next, the half giant." she called. he slowly began to approach the block, aware that each of the Imperials were now gripping their weapons, as if he was going to suddenly break free and assault them. His heart was in it, but something within his mind told him to approach the block anyway. He strode forth, and turned, gazing down at the block. the captain approached him from behind, and he felt her hand going to the middle of his back, before she began to push.

 **"I will not kneel to you."** He said, even as the woman began to put all of her strength into the push. She relented after a few moments, to find that He had not even budged. She stepped back before drawing her sword.

"Fine, we'll do it the hard way." she said, before she swung with all of the force she could muster to the back of his knee. For most men it would have sheered the limb right off, but instead it merely sunk to the bone, dropping him to a singular knee, his head still to far away to rest upon the block. He showed no sign of being in pain besides that, no grunting or yelling, it was frankly un-nerving to the people gather around. She removed her sword slowly, a frown of disgust upon her lips. Another roar was heard in the distance, this one much louder however, as if the elements detested His harm. "Swing from here, if the half giant wants to be stubborn then let him die that way." she said, motioning for the Headsman to raise his axe horizontally as she stepped back.

As the executioner began to wind up for the swing, a great black shape appeared from behind the mountain behind them, roaring as it flew down at impossible speeds. "What in Oblivion is that?" the leader yelled, going for his sword. The executioner paid no mind, prepared to fulfill his order and kill Karrasus, and as he finished bringing the weapon back, the black creature landed upon the tower behind him, t's mighty form shaking the ground and sending the man sprawling to the ground. The creature gazed at Him, before letting lose a mighty shout. The world began to shake, and the sky tore open, as meteorites began to launch themselves at the earth itself.

"A Dragon!" someone shouted. Ancient beast that held insurmountable power and control, that once controlled the world before the age of man and were considered creations of the gods. They were thought dead, or at least, gone. Now one had returned, it's black wings spread upon a round tower as it shouted and set alight buildings with great gouts of flame and falling meteorites. It would have been worrisome to any warrior to hear that despite being bound, clothing in only rag pant, and without a weapon, that the massive form of the half giant only know as Karassus, was sizing the terrible creature up.

"Quickly, over here!" he turned around at the shout, rising from his knees to gaze upon the soldier from earlier, Ralof. The man stood up, and began jogging towards an opposite tower away from the Imperials, who had drawn bows and had begun to shoot at the Dragon. Krassus paid no attention to the fact that his left leg should not have been able to move in such a way to follow the man at a brisk pace. Ralof opened the door to the tower, ducking inside, before Krassus, who now had to crouch, ducked in behind him. The door slammed shut as a flaming rock landed outside, and the sounds of the dragon taking off and the ambience of the fight was muffled by stone and wood.

Inside, stood 4 more Stormcloaks and their leader, Ulfric. They had found a way to become unbound, and Ulfric was un-gagged as well, looking at Ralof. "Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Can the legends be true?" he says, looking back at his leader.

"Legends don't burn down villages. " his was voice was strong and proud, but there was an undertone of reverence to them, he was not expecting to have his death intervened by a Dragon of all things. He quickly collected himself. "We need to move, now!" Ralof patted His arm, before moving up the steps to the side.

"Come on, up the tower." he said, hugging the walls until they approached the second floor, to find another Stormcloak trying to push aside rubble to the next floor.

"If we can move some of this stone we can-" he was cut off abruptly as the wall behind him was breached. The dragon's snout appeared and it's maw opened in a split second, ingulfing the entire man in flame for five full seconds. It roared again, satisfied with it's kill, before pushing off the side of the tower to circle the air again. Ralof ran up, sticking his head outside the hole, before spying the broken roof across. He gestured back at Krassus. he pointed at the opening at the roof, "Quickly, jump across." He wasted no time, swiftly jumping and bracing himself for the landing. He flew through the roofing, beams alight with flames passing by his skin. as he braced to land.

The house, or whatever building it had been, was not prepared for the landing of such a man, and the momentum carried by Krassus caused the man to simply smash through the second floor, and onto the first. He rose up from his heavy landing, and charged forward, the flames sizzling and cracking even as he moved across the room and into the open doorway that lead to the outside. The fire chased after him as if posses, and he did not turn back to check if Ralof had followed him as he tumbled through the doorway.

The outside had changed quite a bit since his minute in the tower. The meteors had ceased falling from the sky, however, the damage was clearly done. Thatch roofs had caved in and support beams had been alight. Stone walls were covered in ash and soot, large patches of blackened stone intersected with a few torched corpses. The dragon swooped in a harsh circle before coming to land before him, and the book keeper who had a sword drawn. A boy was between him and the dragon, terror written across his face.

"Haming, get back!" he yelled, an arm around the boy as he grabbed him and pushed him into cover next to another man. "That a boy, you're doing great." He moved to stay behind them in the cover as the dragon let lose another wave of fire, scorching the road where that had previously stood. He turned, crouched, gazing back at Him and spoke "Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." he turned back to the man and the boy. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense." the so proclaimed Gunnar put his hand upon the boy's shoulder before speaking, "Gods guide you, Hadvar." That was the name of the book keeper then, it held some he would prove worthy for a mortal.

That was an interesting thought, but where did it come from?

"Follow me prisoner." He was broken from his reprieve by Hadvar, who had started moving towards a pathway ahead now that the dragon had taken off. it was circling over head, attacking the remaining archers upon the walls. He followed behind, avoiding the scorched spot on the ground, he was bare footed after-all. The buildings across from the road had collapsed and laid rubble across the way. They took a sharp turn instead, moving into a passage way. A short drop down and they were behind a row of the houses, covered on both sides. "Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar yelled, as the dragon came in and gripped the wall. It's wings gripped the wall directly in front of Hadvar and himself, it's head pointing towards the gates as it released a stream of fire. It took of with a push and they resumed their pace through the alley, and passed into a ruined building.

They broke through the door of the house a moment later, they moved forward towards the gates to find the Imperials gathered in a huddle, the proclaimed General Tullius shouting orders to his subordinates who were either firing arrows, or, strangely enough flinging fireballs from their palms. He turned to them as they approached. "Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!" he yelled, pointing towards the keep behind them on the road, which looked relatively untouched. Hadvar, despite obviously wanting to stay and fight, nodded his head, before turning and gesturing towards Him to follow. They sprinted, moving towards the keep under an archway. He personally wanted to stay and fight, despite the lack of weapons or armor, a fire burned in his heart at the sight of the Dragon. It left a sour feeling upon his mind to turn his back upon a foe.

Suddenly, Hadvar had stopped, his sword drawn as he looked across the road to see Ralof, who was armed with a singular handed axe. "Ralof, you damn traitor!" He yelled "Outta my way." Ralof locked eyes with the man.

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time." he said in return, gesturing towards the keep.

"Fine." it was interesting to here to no argument in return. "I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovengarde!" There it was, a return insult, it was mean spirited, but the word "Sovengarde" was said with obvious reverence. It must be an important place. The two man broke away from their staring match, before moving towards the different entrances. Hadvar moved towards a pair of doors at the front of a squat building, where as Ralof moved to the front of an attached tower.

Krassus did not follow at first, for he was at war with himself. His heart told him to follow the Imperial, something familiar resided within that name, and it called to him in more ways than one. His mind on the other hand, sought to follow the Stormcloak, for the pure fact that they had not tried to cut his head off and list him for a crime he did not commit. In the end, he aligned his body with his mind, moving toward Ralof. The man had a smile upon his face and opened the door with his free hand.

"I'm glad you made it," he said, before moving into the doorway, "in here, quickly." They travelled inside, the halls had moss growing on them, despite the occupation of the imperial troops. The cobblestone floor was smooth and worn out, years old. They moved from the interance into a hallway, that quickly lead into a circular room; the base of the tower. There was singular table within the room, against the far wall, along with two other entrances, the first being a heavy wooden gate, and the other a thin one out of iron bars. The room however was occupied, by a singular person, their back was towards them and they were resting it seems within a chair. The person wore the blue and brown of the Stormcloaks.

"it is good to see someone else made it here before us." Ralof said in terms of greeting, but the figure did not respond. The keep shook and another roar followed, the dragon outside all to real for either man's liking. they approached the person who was still sitting within the chair. It was strange that the person did not here Ralof jogging up to them, despite the clanking of his metal and leather boots. As Krassus approached, he realized that the figure was not breathing and a dark puddle had pooled beneath the figure's feet. Ralof approached and grabbed ahold of the figure's shoulder before pushing slightly as if to wake the figure up.

"Are you alri-" he began, only to be cut off as the Stormcloak abruptly fell out of the seat, his body twisting upwards to reveal the worst to both men. Someone had slit his throat.

* * *

 **Author's Note: little short, I know, but I find it hard to do massive chapters unless I let the full idea stew in my mind for more than a week at a time. I'll try and cut this opening part up in small chapters, around 3k words, but once I start getting to the explorative parts I'll try and start doing upwards of 10k. As for the story, I'm glad to see the increase of Follows, because it means people are somewhat interested in either my style of writing or a new story, which helps me keep putting my time into something like this. As I said in the last note, it's going to be a little bit boring reciting the opening scenes and what not that people have probably played hundreds of times, but it will be much more interesting to have a OC who is learning about the world from a completely wiped slate of a moral compass, instead of being rigid outline of a pre-set character. At the same time, this requires me to be much more imaginative which is a prospect I both love and despise, because I can see these marvelous ideas, and grand schemes, but can't always sort the little things out at the same pace. Sorry if that doesn't make much sense but its kinda how I explain these types of situations. Anyway, I'll have the next chapter done by the end of the next weekend, and it will be the rest of the escape from Helgan, so stay tuned for more. Also, don't fully know how to describe the Him/Krassus thing but it feels important to note that I won't always use his name, and it may get a little confusing if I miss type somewhere.**


	3. Part 1, Chapter 2: Unbound

**Author's Note: You won't know the chapter before Western Watchtower, and you can probably guess why. As for the Black carapace missing, just go with it, some people write it being on the outside of the flesh. As for civilized orcs, yeah, Krassus will probs be poppin a few blood vessels over that one. even if He doesn't fully understand why.**

* * *

Ralof knelt beside the body of his fallen comrade, moving the man's hands over his chest. It was almost picturesque as he closed the man's still open eyes. He spoke softly, "May we meet again in Sovengarde, brother." He stood up, turning back to Krassus, before speaking again, "I would help you get those bindings off," he gestured to the metal shackles, "but I don't think even my axe could break those in a reasonable time."

 **"There is no need."** He replied, his voice echoing in the circle chamber adding to his already deep tone. He flexed his arms, bringing his arms apart. At first there was no difference, the cast iron holding strong, but then, in the span of a few seconds, there was a rough groan emitted from the links, before a rough snap filled the chamber, and the chain shattered in the middle. Ralof, gazed at the now broken chains, surprise written upon his face in the form of raised eyebrows.

"Why didn't you do that before, when the Imperials were putting your head to the block?" He asked.

 **"I recall that they couldn't make me kneel that low. None the less, they had their archers trained on me, no point in squaring up to be filled like a pin cushion. Would make a Dishonorable death."**

"And what made you think that you were going to get off of that block alive?" the man replied, his surprise over written by an instinctual curiosity. To be honest even He didn't fully know why.

 **"Let's call it a precognitive guess."** he rumbled out, looking down at the man, His arms once again at his side.

"A precog.. What? Do you mean a gut feeling? Are you telling me that you, an a 8 foot tall goliath of a man, were willing to stay bound based on a feeling in your gut?" Ralof stared at Him in disbelief. "I know it's one thing to listen to instinct in the midst of battle, but to throw your life on a finicky edge based on which way the winds are blowing, that just isn't right."

 **"It appears that it worked, did it not?"** he could not see where this conversation was going, or why Ralof had such a big concern over the matter, they had escaped bonds, yes?

"And you get saved by a Dragon of all things. You must either be the luckiest man alive, or horribly cursed." He turned his attention to iron door. "Eh, whatever works, we need to focus on getting out of here. I'll go see if either of these doors are unlocked, why don't you take his axe?" He said, pointing to a the two handed weapon resting against the table. "He's not going to have a use for it anymore." Ralof turned away, and crossed the floor to inspect the Iron door.

He, in turn, reached across and grabbed the handle of the weapon. It looked reliable, was meant to be wielded in two hands if you were of normal size, but in His hands it could be used by one alone. It's head was sharp and made of iron, connecting to the wooden shaft that was entwined with strips of coarse leather. This was a warrior's tool. It felt right in His hands. He swung it around, getting the feel for the weapon, a few mock swings showing that the weapon, while decently made, was not balanced fully. The haft was outweighing the blade by a goo fraction, however, if he needed to throw the weapon he could probably land the hit well enough. It would have to do for now.

"Damn, this door is locked." Ralof said from behind Him, already moving across the floor to the wooden gate. "Let's try this one instead." His search was interrupted partway however, as the trod of boots sounded from the far side of the wooden gate. A female called out, "quickly Soldier, this way." It was familiar, in fact, it was the Captain who had sliced the back of His leg with her sword. Ralof took notice a second later as the foot steps began to jog closer.

"Get ready, there are Imperials coming." he whispered, moving to the side of the door, opposite of Him, drawing his axe in preparation. The Imperials had arrived at the door, and there were only two of them, the Captain from before, and one of the regular soldiers wearing leather armor. The soldier stepped off to the side, slightly out of view. It was a wonder that they didn't hear Ralof's boots against the floor as he shifted and drew his axe, but perhaps it was only Him that noticed, seeing as the Imperials didn't react any differently.

"Quickly soldier, get this gate open!" the Captain spoke, urgency and a bit of worry coloring her voice. As if to capitalize upon that fear, a roar broke through from the walls themselves, it's great bellowing even making a small shake here in the keep, the dragon outside was angry, or perhaps hungry, and it was having a feast of both pain and flesh. Suddenly, there was a slight grunt, followed shortly by the sound of shifting gears. The gate slowly slid into the ceiling, and the Imperials both began to enter the room. They both had their weapons sheathed, and they were focused on the far door.

He was upon them in an instant. In the blink of an eye, He side stepped from His hiding spot and grabbed the Captain first with an outstretched arm, and sent her sprawling to the floor behind Him. She hit the ground with a rather hard landing, surprised by the sudden ambush. The soldier behind her didn't even have time to scream before the pilfered axe He had acquired split the man's skull in two. As for the Captain, she got out at least a panicked yelp before He was upon her. Tearing the axe from the soldier's skull it changed the momentum of the weapon, bringing the back end, and it's sharpened spike, directly into the back of the Captain's leg, piercing through the thin hide, skin, muscle, and through the metal greaves, before it became in beaded within the stone floor. She wailed at that, even as he moved around to face her.

 **"Remember me?"** He asked, His voice coming out as a snarl, almost animal like. She gazed at Him, mouth agape in horror as His now empty hands quickly attached themselves to her head, and with a swift and brutal _snap_ , broke her neck, nearly ripping her helmeted head off in the process. Her body slumped forward, her mouth still agape as she hit the floor with an awful clang. He reached back, and with a swift gesture, pulled the axe out of the deceased woman's leg. The fight, if one were to call it that, was over in five seconds.

"Remind me to never piss you off." Ralof spoke to Him, sheathing his unbloodied axe and moving to check the bodies. He found nothing of interest upon the soldier, and moved to the Captain, fishing his hand in the small pockets around her waist, before releasing a small "ah-ha", before withdrawing a small bronze key from the pocket. "I bet this thing," he raised the key up for inspection, "will unlock that door." he finished, already moving towards the iron bar door.

Krassus followed, and upon inserting the key and pushing against the locking mechanism, the door opened, grinding slightly against the floor. Beyond the door lay a half spiral stair case, that led downward, and was large enough that five men could walk abreast with some room to spare. Hugging the wall, the two men descended, before passing into the doorway at the bottom which lead into an adjacent hallway. The hallway was very bland, and only had two doors on the left side, separated by several feet and made of solid wood, torches in scones filled the passage way with a dim light that nipped and sparked in the air. Further down the hall there were two figures, clad in blue, but suddenly, the dragon reaffirmed it presence in their minds, and released another roar, enough to shake the keep from the outside in, causing the ceiling to collapse in the middle. The resulting rubble caused even Him to take a knee from the shaking, and it lasted for several seconds.

"Well, that way is cut off, we'll have to find another way around." Ralof said, before he spotted what Krassus was already up and moving towards the wooden door on their current side of the hall. With a deft pull He swung the door open, advancing into the room. The room was longer than it was wide, and was adorned with shelfs and tables packed to the brim with bags, barrels, and crates. The rest of the room was hidden behind a divider support, but Krassus had already begun to analyze and move towards the other two beings in the room. Another Captain and soldier stood in the middle, the soldier searching through the barrels for something. Both of the men turned upon hearing the door open however. Ralof entered in behind Him and spotted the two Imperials as well, drawing his axe.

"Get ready to die!" the Captain shouted, moving towards them and drawing his sword, the soldier a few steps behind. The Captain charged at Him first, but just as he was about to swing, found that his target had simply _moved_ and was now to the left of him, a massive set of knuckles back handing him across the face, and sent him straight into the stone work. The soldier saw this and faltered, back pedaling from His form and raising his sword to defend himself. There was no chance, as suddenly, the iron axe came up, and with a might shove, hammered into the man. The soldier didn't get knocked over all the way, but was left reeling, his block thoroughly broken. The axe came up again, and struck the soldier in the face, once, then again, and finally for a third time the butt of the shaft going into the man's nose and shattering it. The soldier dropped his sword and grabbed at his nose even as blood gushed through his fingers. A fool's mistake but it would not have mattered if he held onto his blade, for the axe had been spun about and the fang breached the man's skull with enough force to pulp a crater in the side of his skull. With a slight flick the body was pushed away, small bits of skull fragments and grey matter following behind the fang of the axe as He wheeled around on the ball of his foot, looking to finished the Captain off. He paused however, to find Ralof standing over the man, his axe buried deep within the Captain's throat.

"You got something there." he said, pointing with his free hand at the axe's clip, his eyes tracking the small bits of cranial matter as they slid off of the curved edge. Ralof bended and pulled his axe away from the corpse's throat, his own feeling a tad bit dry. A slight flick and the axe was once again rid of most of the blood, Krassus replicating the process with the end of His own axe. Re-sheathing the hand axe in his belt, he looked around. Though he did not say it, it was quite clear that he was un-nerved by the brutal slaughter that had been replicated upstairs. "Why don't you search some of these barrels for potions, we might need them." he said, trying to distract himself from the body of the soldier.

 **"Potions?"** There was confusion written across his face, but Ralof had the echoes of it upon his own.

"Yeah," he gulped, "they're shaped like a flask, and are red and green, you know health and stamina, yeah?" It was meant in levity from Ralof's perspective, but it didn't hold much of a concept to Him seeing as it was an unknown thing. He turned away from the man and began searching through the barrels.

 **"And the blue ones?"** He asked, holding up a small, almost toy like flask in his massive hand, it was colored a light blue. He inspected it, but besides it's little stopper on the top, there wasn't much to see.

"Those are for mana, mages usually carry them to help throw out some extra spells." Ralof replied, moving towards the far end and another door, "don't really see someone like you using magic thought."Krassus continued his searching through the barrels, thinking. Mages? those were unfamiliar to Him. Another thought however congealed at the back of His mind, a word came to His lips even as He pulled out and pocketed a few red and green flask and stored them in a small pouch that he had picked up and tied to His rather rudimentary, rope belt. What was it... Ps-er… p-yk-r... Psyker! That was it was, it felt natural to use the term, but He fully didn't understand it, maybe Ralof would know.

 **"Do you mean a psyker?"** He rumbled out, withdrawing from the barrels and crossing the room to stand before the door. Ralof looked up at Him, eyes squinting in confusion.

"What, what in the name of Talos is a psyker?" he asked, before continuing, "Look, no, you're already being weird enough being _You_ , I'm talking about mages, you know, they shoot fireballs, or lighting, they throw up magical shields and heal people depending on their profession, you've got have seen one, right?" He said, his arms crossed as he looked up at Him. Now that he thought about it, when he was running with Hadvar, a few of the soldiers around Tullius had been blasting fireballs at the dragon. They had to be psykers.

 **"So, psykers."** Ralof just threw is hands up, in what seemed to be a gesture of frustration if He had to base it off the look on the man's face.

"Fine, sure, I guess they are, but let me tell you, we call them Mages up here, as well as in most of Tamriel I'm assured. If you wanna call 'em 'Psykers' that's fine by me, but try not to cry to much when you get your face torn off when one of them takes it as an insult." He said, before pushing against the door and entering the other side of the hallway. He didn't try and remark with the man on how a title that was truthful to someone's nature be fully considered an insult, unless, of course, said with enough force or venom. or how He didn't shed tears over physical attack.

He ducked under the door frame, and moved forwards. They were now on the other side of the rubble, and the hallway lead on for a good amount before ending with a turn and a straight stair case. They quickly moved forward, but as they rounded the corner towards the stairs, they both heard the sound of weapons, promptly causing Ralof to re-draw his own and Himself to curl His open fist in preparation for a fight. They descended the stairs at a brisk pace, only for the sound of combat to increase, yells and weapons clashing interrupted by a fierce sizzling sound every few seconds. Ralof cursed as they approached the bottom. "Troll's blood, a torture chamber."

the room they had descended into was square, and well lit. 3 cages of solid steel lined the wall across from the stairs, and the middle of the room were four support pillars. The combats within were two stormcloaks, a man and a woman, against two Imperials, one dressed like a regular soldier and the other having his helmet replaced with a hood. The combatant with the hood had a dagger in one hand, and right as He turned the corner, unleashed a beam of lightning directly at the female storm cloak. She screamed, and kneeled over, but was un able to get up before the hooded one was upon her, his dagger set to end her. The other Stormcloak was locked in combat with the spare imperial who keeping the man at bay with a shield and mace. Ralof was to far away to assist her, but still tried to charge with his axe. He however, could.

 **"Psyker."** he boomed out, crossing the floor in two steps and sent his curled fist into the blind sided executioner. The man flew across the room, in-between the two others locked in combat, and slammed into the stone wall, before he slid down, a large red spot remaining splatter there, as if a gigantic insect had been crushed. The other Imperial eyed the corpse of his dead ally with shock, before turning back in the direction of Krassus, but in his stupor, had forgotten the Stormcloak in front of him, who had used the distraction to raise his two handed axe, and swung it down. the blade went into the man's collar bone and sunk in to the binding, a terrible scream split the air for a second before he pulling it out again and letting the fresh body fall limp to the floor. He turned, and looked a Him in awe.

As for the female on the floor, she had her eyes closed, expecting death, but instead of a swift death from the torturer, had hear a massive boom in the form of a shout, similar to the Will of the Voice, followed by a loud smack, then the follow up of an axe tasting flesh alongside a dying scream. She opened her eyes, to find the booted feet of her would be executioner to have been replaced by a gigantic pair of bare feet. She tilted upwards, and her gaze fell upon the massive face of her savior, the Giant from the courtyard. He shifted, looking at the two Stormcloaks as Ralof stepped up beside Him.

"Don't worry," he spoke to the two, "he's with us." Both of them gazed up at Him, only for the male to break his gaze, and turning to Ralof, with an eyebrow raised. "Don't worry about it right now, have either of you seen Jarl ulfric?" he asked, a small tone of worry inflicting his voice.

"No," the male answered, "you two are the first people we've seen besides these two imperials." the female was oblivious to their conversation however, still enraptured by the looks of her savior. His shirtless body, which looked as if it was purely muscle subtly moved as he drew breath, massive shoulders and a pair of arms that could hold up the very world, a far cast from those lanky 'giants' that strode the northlands. Her eyes wandered to His face, how it looked as if His jawline hide been carved out of stone, and a few scars ran from His left check to the side of His nose. At the top of His forehead on the right side sat three circular scars, as if someone had had hit him with the butt of a thin metal rod until it was engrained upon the flesh. Massive blue eyes stared down at the two men besides him as they conversed, the color deep enough to get lost in, and to top it all off, a head of wavy hair that reached to the middle of his back, was it her, or was a slight breeze picking the ends of it up like a cape? (yes, I just did that, and I also gave you an approximate age.) She was drawn back to the conversation to Ralof's command, "Come on, we have to scout ahead."

Opposite of the staircase they had entered from, was the entrance to a rather long hallway, lit by braziers on the floor. The quartet moved quickly, passing several prison cells as the hustled into another room. This room was filled to the brim with cages, cylinder things made of steel that were funnel shaped at the top, where a length of chain was attached, as if to hang from some type of support. One of the cages was occupied, pushed against the far wall nex to a blazing torch. Or rather, it had been, the occupant was not exactly with them. The yellow bones of the skeleton had become worn and brittle, and in the light of the torch above it, with its hunched stature, cast a flickering shadow across the floor, the skull by some weird natural or man made attempt, stared at the hallway, its jaw open, as if to learn at them as they passed into the room. It was a bit un-nerving to say the least, but they brushed it off and moved on.

The left side wall had been cleared up, and a sizable entrance lay broken through the stonework to the other side, man-made structure blending with natural rock formations that lead out into a moss covered passageway, lined with more braziers to provide light as it slowly dipped and suddenly cut off at the corner. Taking a cautious step, Ralof gripped the sides of the hole, moving slowly as not to trip on the broken stonework. Getting his feet upon the natural stone, he waited for the other two Stormcloaks to cross, and watched as he merely stepped in one stride over the rubble, ducking His head to get through the gap. Ralof turned and began to press forward before he was stopped.

 **"Hold on, there are voices ahead,"** He whispered, voice no higher than a slight breeze. **"There are two people talking, but I hear four pairs of feet moving around slowly, one of them is wearing heavy greaves, similar to the Imperial Captain's we've fought. The two voices and the footsteps matching them are just around the bend, but the other pair are farther, but are pacing back and forth. They are patrolling. I would advise you let me advance first."** he said it in a way that was offering, but Ralof knew who was more so "In charge" here, Krassus was just allowing him to save face in front of his comrades, and he was thankful for that. Ralof for all his uncertainty of the giant, nodded his head, and watched as He crouched and begun to slink forward at a faster pace. It didn't even register that the 8 foot tall man was barely making a sound as he crossed the un-even rock floor. They reached the bend, and He drew His axe to the side, hand laying closer to where the actual handle was. He brushed off the bend and advanced swiftly into the room, the Stormcloaks running after Him.

 **"I am Vengeance!"** He roared, sprinting directly around the corner and into the next room. it was square, much larger than any he had been in yet, and had a small spring passing through the center before it disappeared under ground again. The room was half natural cavern and half man made structure, some old stone flooring and a stair case leading down to the stream that had the same hue as the wild fauna growing around it. The Imperials were an ill sight that He was tiring of, and as He breached the room, His axe was raised to chop the first soldier down. He was right in his assumptions, for there were 2 Imperials across the room, who had, despite the evident fear in their eyes, drawn bows and were fumbling for ammunition. The first to receive his axe however was a simple soldier, and behind him stood yet another Captain.

A might down ward swing as he leaped forward, the axe twirling in His massive palms with a dexterity that was almost un-heard of, the weapon seeming more like a paperweight than an actual weapon to Him. The soldier was cleaved, split from ribcage to hip by a might slash that ejected a stream of blood and sent the unfortunate soul spinning to the ground with an agonized yell. The captain, who by now had drawn his own sword moved forwards towards Him, began to swing, what the Captain failed to realize however, or rather, over looked, was that He had not only a longer weapon, but a longer reach as well. midway through the Captain's swing, he was accosted by the back sweep of the axe, splintering into his ankle. The Captain let out a shrill scream, un-becoming of a warrior such as him.

Suddenly there was the thin rubbing sound of wood on wood in His ears. The archers had found their arrows and notched them, and most likely aiming at him over the Stormcloaks. Instincts kicked in, and with a sudden motion He lunged forward and grabbed the Captain, whipping the man around to cover His own un-protected body. Two arrows wised through the air, one slamming home into the Captain's neck, and the other, unfortunately slamming into His side, burying itself a few centimeters deep. He snarled, and instead of going to pull out the arrow, flung the metal clad corpse at the bowmen. It was accompanied by an arrow as well.

The body of the Captain crossed the small ford instantly, and smashed into one of the bowmen, the other one moving slightly to the side in time. This however was his misfortune, because the stray arrow ended up smashing into his chest, piercing the man's armor. He looked to see Ralof, bow held at the ready, a small pouch of arrows looped on his belt.

 **"I didn't take you to be an archer."** He spoke softly, His hand moved to the arrow shaft sticking out of His side. Ralof tracked His movement as the two others moved to secure the far side where the two bowmen lay.

"I use to hunt when I was younger, I don't practice too often but at this range it's hard to miss." he said, eyes watching as He gripped the arrow and swiftly pulled it out, amazed how He didn't show discomfort. The arrow thankfully didn't snap, and as he finished removing the object of harm, a small trickle of blood fell from His side, but magically it seemed, congealed and the wound already began to slowly seal. To Ralof's eyes it was magic, but there was no visible usage of mana coming from Him. it was odd. Coming back to his senses, he watched as Krassus threw the arrow to the ground, and followed Him as He rounded the walkway over to the position of the other Stormcloaks, who were currently insuring that they're enemies had truly met their demise. By systematically slicing all three men's throats. The two rose as He approached, looking at Him, the female opened her mouth to speak.

"We saw you got shot, what happened to the arrow?" she asked.

 **"I pulled it out."** He declared, curious as to why she was wondering.

"Wait, you pulled it out?" now she was definitely curious, "Where's the entry wound?" She pointed at his side, where the arrow had been previously, however, even now, only He could barely see the small scar tissue that was there, she was just generally point to where she most likely saw him take the hit."

 **"I'm rather durable."** He said, chuckling slightly. The three of them looked at Him in surprised, did His laughter un-nerve them perhaps? It was all in good nature. Shortly enough Ralof let lose a smirk to show that the humor got across. He turned, and the two stormcloaks were smiling as well. The male spoke this time.

"We'll hold here and wait for Ulfric or anyone else who show up, you two move on ahead and clear the cave for us, yeah?" he said, pointing towards the hallway that behind them. A raised wooden bridge and lever mechanism stat upon the stone. Ralof nodded, putting his bow on his back. The female spoke as they moved to the beginning of the hall.

"Talos guide you Ralof, and.. " she paused, and He realized she probably never heard His name.

 **"Krassus."** He said. The woman smiled in return.

"You as well Krassus." They turned away, moving towards the entrance they enter from, leaving Himself and Ralof to enter the hall. They halted in front of the mechanism, and He simply reached down and pushed it, the lever yielding to His strength. A moment latter, and the wooden bridge slammed down on the far side, leaving a large hole for sunlight to poor in from above. Even though the caves and keep were not exactly dark, the fresh glare of the sun above felt excellent upon His skin. The bridge barely held His weight as they cross, but as soon as they didn't that familiar roar returned, followed by the sound of falling debris. A moment later, and the hole they crossed under filled with several collapsed supports and stone pieces, destroying the bridge and blocking the way back.

"Damn," Ralof spoke as he turned around at the noise, "they'll have to find another way around. We should keep moving." They turned about, moving to the side as they moved downwards into what was now a complete cave. The stonework faded behind them, and it widened, with the continuous small stream crossing down the middle. The walls were now covered in a low glowing blue, the result of some rather peculiar fungus that had what appear to be feelers straining off of them. They were interesting to Him, and while there were plenty of Unknowns to Him here, these Fungal matters were on their own worthy of discovered. the biggest one was whether they were edible or not. After all, Thinking ahead might be useful if they were in this cave for a more than welcome amount of time.

Despite the oddity of the fungus, they moved on, quickly moving down the side of the stream and following it down the cave. moving farther inwards in a straight direction rewarded them with a bit more light from a large entrance that sunlight flew through. As they approached it however they noticed it was a drop off however, the water from the stream falling below for almost four stories below. Sunlight flowed in from a gigantic hole in the earth above, and snow covered the ground and the natural bridge that connected two more entrances that ran across the way from them. While He could most likely jump to the bridge, doubt rest upon the mind about the stability of the rocks, as well as the fact that Ralof would not be able to follow Him. To their right however, was a pathway that lead downwards in a slope, most likely leading to the right entrance of the stone bridge.

 **"That way."** He said, pointing down the path. Ralof merely nodded and the duo jogged downwards, cautious of their placement and rounded a sharp turn about, which rewarded them with the crossing. Ralof went first, crossing the snowy bridge with no hesitation, and He was short to follow, listing to the minor, whispered groans of the rock beneath Him. Moving forward they followed the tunnel as it curved back up and to the left, almost turning around before it switched back to the right. Suddenly, the tunnel ended into a small opening, a small hole in the roof pushing in invasive light to reveal an almost door like opening in the rock that appeared to expand into another lowered open area. Ralof could see something within, but it was His sharp sense that showed Him the webs and large pale eggs resting in the room, and the four, eight legged creatures of fur and chitin that appear to hug the ground. He was somewhat revolted by their appearance, alien in nature with their four eyes and skittering movement. **"Ahead, skittering xenos, with four eyes, webs and eggs around."**

"Great." Ralof huffed, drawing his axe, "Frostbite spiders, watch yourself, they spit poison that hurts quite a bit, it has a strange paralysis in it to help freeze smaller prey, but for a regular person it only hurts and causes a numb in the limbs, you'll be better off I'm pretty sure, even without armor." He looked at Him, checking the room part he could see. "I bet you they're going to be more in the ceiling waiting to jump down, considering this looks like a nest. Let's split once we enter, so we don't end up getting hit by a stray fling of poison." He said, approaching the slope.

Krassus followed behind, moving quickly to grip His axe. There were four within, but now that he was looking at the holes in the ceiling He assumed each was occupied. A total of ten foes in total, and if these were the largest, it would be easy. He rushed forward off the slope, axe already wound back ready to swing. He broke left and Ralof went right, moving a few paces behind. As they stormed forward there was a screeching sound and preemptively He ducked, two blobs of sickly green webbing flying over His head. As He fell upon the first 'Spider' He split it in half with the axe head, which was a little be interesting considering that these things appear to be armored somewhat, perhaps their entire bodies were this weak? He moved from the first and reached the next two as five more descended from the ceiling. With a horizontal swing closer to His own knees, He cleaved the first one and with the body still attached continued the momentum of the swing slamming it into it's ally. Both bodies were now filled with an unstoppable momentum, the second one screeching in what he assumed to be fear, and with an extended grip upon the axe, sent them careering into a natural pillar, the bodies crunching in a sickening manner and then falling when He removed the axe.

Ralof was doing well enough, having kill the first two as well, but was about to get overwhelmed by the three other spiders that had come down. A swift swing of the axe and he removed one's forward set of legs, before plating the axe in the screeching thing's head. By some cruel twist of fate however, the axe held fast in the chitin head plate despite his desperate attempts of removing it. The two spiders on his side sought to gain the upper hand upon their prey because of this. One went to leap upon him but was suddenly interrupted by an axe implanted in it's spine, and the other turned around to receive a crimpling blow to it's head from a balled fist. Ralof finally removed his axe to see the targets dead, and Krassus standing amongst the bodies, not a wound upon Him and His axe dripping with foul dark ichor. **"Let us continue."** He rumbled, point toward an exit upon the left wall.

The passed over the bodies of the frostbites, moving into another tunnel that angled stiffly to the right and downward. The stream resumed from a hole in the wall and the blue fungus returned, lighting their pathway as they continued down the pathway only to find the stream abruptly sliding under a solid piece of stone, leaving the path ahead blocked, peculiar enough however was a set brazier, alight, and a skeleton hunched above it up on a raised platform against the wall. The skeleton had a small tan pouch resting next to it. Ralof spotted it as well.

"Hey, grab that pouch." he pointed at it, "probably has a few Septims that this poor fellow here gathered up." He reached up, snagged the pouch and opened it, the inside of the small pouch revealing several small golden coins that clinked together from the movement. He examined the coins, to find that on one side they had an identical symbol that was upon the Imperials armor, and the other the face of a man that He didn't quite recognized. The coin was embellished at the bottom of the head with small wording. 'Sanctum Imperialis Septum.' it read, but to Him it was once again oddly familiar. He resealed the pouch, and with deft movements attached the small thing to His belt where it joined the potions pouch. he looked down upon his garbing and frowned. He would have to get different cloths soon, because the already shrewd lining was already unravelling before his very eyes at the ankles.

Ralof nodded as the pouch was attached, and in a similar line of thought, spoke. "You can use those to purchase something more presentable than rags to wear when we get to a town or village, wouldn't do you any good with cloths that screamed 'I'm an escaped convict.' especially if the imperials start looking for us."

He looked at the man, not fully understanding the humpr within the man's voice. **"I am no cri** **minal."** He stated holding His head up high, starring down at the man as they moved down the pathway.

"Never said you were," he replied quickly, "but the Imperials sentenced you to the block, and most good folk round these parts don't wear rags when they're travelling out in the wilds." Nothing more was said on the topic. The tunnel was slowly turning about, akin to a bypass. The curvature ended swiftly however, as the opening appeared and as they stepped out into this massive junction they had re-found the stream and with it, a sizable clearing. There was a problem however. "Hey, hold up." Ralof had spotted it as well, "There's a bear just ahead. I'd rather not tangle it but I have a feeling we won't be able to pass by it without getting noticed. How about I shoot it from a distance?" he finished, pulling out his bow and notching an arrow.

He pulled back, arrow sighting in on the creature, one eye closed as he looked down range. The bear was a good fifty yards away and appeared to be napping, however, it's head wasn't looking at them. He breathed in sharply, and released the arrow, watching it as it zeroed in on the beast's head. It was going to land perfectly. Or so they thought.

At the last second, either by instincts or by luck, the bear raised it's head, sending the arrow careering into it's shoulder. Needless to say, the bear was not amused by the attack, and let out a mighty roar, rushing towards them even as Ralof notched a second arrow. As it barged towards them he landed the blow in it's chest, but as he went to fire a third shot, fumbled with the arrow, and wasn't able to notch it in time. The bear was nearly upon him when krassus intervened.

With a mighty roar of his own, He side tackled the bear an unseen speed, sending His shoulder into and underneath the beast before carrying it toward the small stream. The bear clawed at Him, it's paws slicing His back and drawing blood. In all honesty that only that excited Him, for once find something that could fight back, it did not feel bad to fight the creature like it did to fight the Imperials, at least not in a way he could sense. In the few seconds he deposited the bear, throwing it to the ground, and as it stumbled and rolled to get back on it's feet he was already winding back the axe, and with another might yell, released the pent up force into a massive double handed swing upon the beast's neck. With the sound of chopping wood, the spine cracked, and the bear's head sheared clean off it's shoulders. The adrenaline was flowing through Him, and even now, the bleeding on His back had stopped, the skin wounds already healing at an obscene pace despite the visual appearance of the wounds looking deeper than they were. It felt good to fight against nature like that.

"Good kill." Ralof spoke, approaching beside Him. the man was having a bit of trouble breathing, the bear gave him a bit more than a scare most likely. He had put up his bow, and inspecting the thing. The wound looked precise and clean, save for the shards of bone that had once been a spine decorating their razor sharp edges through fur, muscle, and flesh like a mad mans painting. It unsettled him how easily the giant had destroyed the body with a single blow, and more than just a little bit, even not being on the receiving end. The worst thing about it however was that he was slowly starting to get used to the utter devastation that the Giant could cause.

War was un-fair, and always had been in his opinion, but Ralof felt comfortable that he had somewhat convinced Krassus to join him against the Imperials to escape. He of course knew that they were allies of circumstance, and that it would most likely take much more convincing to garner the Giant's favor in joining the war on the _right_ side. if Krassus did join up, it would be like a blessing from Talos himself. Ralof hadn't said anything, but he had definitely noticed how fast the giant healed, and it wasn't with magic or health potions from what he had seen. The man had the endurance of a ox and the regenerative powers of a bloody frost troll. These thoughts however were for the future, they first had to get out of this damned caved, away from this forsaken fort, and far as possible away from that flying lizard that may or may not have been one of the most dangerous creatures to walk the face of Skyrim, if not the whole known world. Together, the two men moved away from the corpse, and approached the far side of the cave, that lead to yet another tunnel. A sharp turn later however and Ralof finally released a sigh of relief.

There, a few yards away, sat a triangular entrance, and from it, came sunlight, snow, and soothing winds. They had finally found the way out.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Alright, so that's the Helgan part of the prologue completed, not the 10k I wanted but in all honesty, I realized that if I dragged it out that far, I'd either get really repetitive (which I already am unfortunately(working on it)) or I'd be going in to too much detail for an opening sequence that everyone has played too many damned times. Let me role up the track for what the next chapters are going to be like: First, Riverwood, then to Whiterun, then back out to Riverwood and up to Bleakfalls Barrow, then back to Whiterun and then the Western Watchtower. This is only slightly deviated stuff from the story, as you can see with this chapter I changed a few things up and what not but the sequence of the story stays realatively the same. Also realize, that if you guys have any questions, PM me or something and I'll respond pretty quickly and maybe even have some brainstorming off of our convos. This was a decently long chapter (for me, I wish I could be the guy that throws out 30K words in a chapter but then I realized that some of the people doing that have been writing and preparing for a full year before posting and are already reviewing it, which is actually really smart.), and the Riverwood one is going to be one solid chapter with a lot of dialogue and little combat, so my apologizes in the beginning, but it needs to add more context and flavor to our MC. That being said, there may be some other things that go on during the Riverwood chapter that are not strictly convo directed. Anyway, hope you guys like it, I've been noticing the notifications for followers of the Story and I'm glad to see so many people are interested. remember, your interest in me drive me to complete these chapters and write this story, especially when it becomes more interactive to the quest that'll be offered. I'll be trying to put a chapter out every week, on Friday if it's 10K or less, Sunday if its 11-15K and a full two weeks if it's 16-30K/requires revision or editing. I'll begin writing the next chapter tomorrow, and I'll see you guys with another chapter next week.**


	4. Part 1, Chapter 3: A Moment of Respite

**Note: I don't own the official Skyrim dialogue and was never under the pretense of owning it, it is strictly being used to help further the setting of the story and flush out the character(s).**

* * *

The sunlight shone down from up high, the sun resting at it's peak within the clear blue sky. It was poetic, a small breeze picking up the leaves of trees and creating a small swirl in the air. Wildlife sung and chirped, going about their lives in a routinely manner. The world was at peace, and it felt right to see such wilderness un-touched.

Until a mighty roar shook the peace away, and a great black shape flew above.

Ralof scrambeled, sliding down a slight decline that lead away from the entrance to take cover against a rather large boulder while He flattened Himself up against the cave, the shadows folding to cover Him. The Dragon roared again, circled twice above what remained of Helgan behind them, before flying off, gaining altitude and speed until it was but a mere spec in the distance. They had no inclination to find out.

"That was close" Ralof spoke aloud, and He felt the same. Nothing good comes from facing a monstrous beast that can spit flames and summon meteors with only an axe and a pair of rags in the shape of pants. They moved from their selective cover, and joined upon the small dirt pathway in front of the cave. The ambient sounds of nature returned shortly after their embarkment upon the path, bringing back the music of the wild. The path was filled with small bends and several pebbles, but was thankfully wide enough for the two of them to walk aside each other. Given the relative lack of enemies and the fact that no one was actively trying to kill them, a conversation was struck up.

"Thanks for your help back there," Ralof began, looking up at Him, his voice sincere, "I don't think I could have made it through that without you."

 **"We were both in the same situation, for different reasons."** He didn't feel the need to say that He had done most of the heavy work, it was unbecoming of a person like Him. _It was an odd thing to think when He couldn't even describe Himself or where he came from._

"Still, I was really worried there when they had us lined up at the block." his eyes turned down cast, "Almost met our ends at the head of a damned executioner's axe, instead of righteous battle. If it wasn't for the.." he kept moving but he stopped his line of thought, as if he didn't believe what he saw with his own eyes.

 **"The dragon."** He finished, looking about as He said it, keeping an eye out for either the thing to swoop back around, or for any other natural predators. The man's lack of vigilance could be excused, but as a warrior, He could not spare the moment to reminisce about the creature. He had already resolved to moving forward, finding it, and killing it. Ralof took notice of His scanning of their surroundings.

"Sorry, just, Dragons haven't been around for Thousands of years, for one of them to pop back up alongside this bloody civil war of all things is a bit to take in." he signed. "Anyway, we should probably get moving as far away from here as possible before any Imperials show up. Hopefully we'll find an actual road sometime soon."

 **"Agreed."**

The two moved on in silence from there, moving at a brisk pace down the path, both of them on the alert for any danger. It took them half an hour to final reach the end of the sprawled and winding dirt path, and finally reach a large stone road. He stopped, giving a small rest for Ralof who was looking a bit more worn down. A wooden set of signs were held aloft on a pole near by, and the two of them slowly paced towards it, Ralof gathering himself as He looked it. There were three in total each piece facing a different direction with a different word in white spelt upon them. The two facing away from them read out Falkreath and Helgan, and the were put at separate angles to each other, turning to look where the signs pointed He found that in the direction that the road split into a fork, the left most side inclining upwards curving, while the rightwards road stayed straight and level. Ralof tapped the third sign, drawing his attention back to read the name Riverwood, the road in the direction began to decline past the sign, and slowly curved.

"Riverwood is where we should go." he stated, "My sister, Gerdur, we can lay low there for a little while, as well as warn her about the dragon attack." he finished, stretching a bit in preparation for the walk. Krassus turned to him, eyebrow raised.

 **"Is your sister the Jarl of the city?"** He asked. Why would a man like him be fighting for a rebellion when he is of noble blood?

"What?" he was surprised by the question, shaking the confusion off, he replied, "No, Jarls are the rulers of the Holds, Riverwood is simply a small village within the Hold of Whiterun, but our family helped found it generations ago, and as such it is well within her right to request aid from Jarl Balgruuf. If we warn her about what happened at Helgan with the dragon we could help defend the people. Anyway, we should get going, if we keep pace we'll get their before the afternoon is out."

They moved away from the signs down the singular road, listening to the sounds of wildlife. The pathway wound about and curved sharply, its slope leading downwards. It was peaceful as they walked, and after an hour they finally heard the sound of rushing water. As they rounded another bend, they came across a cliff face with an outcrop. Upon it sat a raised dais, with three large stone conical obelisk with markings upon them. Below the outcrop spun the fast flowing waters of a large river, the current pushing it northward at a rapid pace. Ralof approached the obelisks.

"I forgot about these," he began as Krassus approached, "They're the Standing Stones." He looked at them and gazed at the markings, identifying a figure on each. One held a small buckler and a large axe, his face covered by a beard and horned helmet. Another was of a figure in robes, armed with a simply looking staff or branch, and a comically large hat. The final one was half covered in shadow, but He could easily see the cloaked figure with a large pouch in hand an a dirk in the other. they were not marvelous pieces of art, but something resonated within them.

 **"Why are they here?"** He asked, looking down at Ralof.

"No one knows, and the assumption of who made them were tales of the Dragonpriest." he spoke, gazing between the three of them, "The three here are the warrior, the mage, and the thief, but there are more scattered throughout Skyrim from what I hear." His next question was unspoken save for His continued stare at Ralof. "as for what they do, each stone has a certain magical power, meant to slightly enhance the attributes of the sign." he finished, "At least, that's what those mudcrab mulchheads up in Winterhold describe it. What it really means is that those who choose the mage stone become potentially greater with magic, and acquire knowledge easier. The thief means that you'll become more adept to sticking at the shadows and dodging more, maybe pick pockets and locks with ease. As for the warrior-" he paused as Krassus moved forward, His hand running over the obelisk of the Warrior.

 **"One must become more attuned to performing greater feats of martial prowess and great strength, their armor being of a second skin."** He rumbled, watching as the obelisk slowly light up. As the light bloomed around the outline of the Warrior within, stars and lines connected to create a correlation, before a final pulse sent a searing white light into the heavens. A split second later and it was gone, but there were slight differences. The words He recited, were not of anything written, or His own intuition even. _Those words had been spoken to Him long ago, back when He was younger, but He could not remember who said them, or where and why. He urged the memory to refocus from the haze, but alas, it would not, and even as He pressed all His Will to bring it back, He could not get a better grip upon them. The words held meaning, but He could not figure out why outside of the here and now._

"You could phrase it like that I guess, yeah." Ralof interrupted His thoughts, and He turned back to the man, "Had a feeling you would pick that one though, gotta admit you look like you're made for it." It was a truthful statement, seeing as He was eight feet tall, and weighted several hundred pounds of muscle. He was solid as any building foundation, and could hit harder than a boulder. _Like clay I shall mold them._ Another spark, but this one was even more distant and disguised, and was let go, to be thought upon later. There was no need for Soul Searching while in a case of urgency. They had to get to Riverwood, undistracted. The two began to move away, down the path.

* * *

It took them another two hours to reach Riverwood. The light of midday had begun to fade, and the sun was slowl approaching the horizon, preparing to pass the world into the darkness of night. The road had finally flattened out as it followed the river down stream, fish jumping out of the water periodically as if in some massive dance. On their right side had remained the regular fauna and wild life of Skyrim, thick pine trees, moss covered boulders and several varieties of brightly colored plants. Nothing had crossed their path, but every so often they would hear the far off howl behind them, but the sound hadn't trailed them with any noticeable speed, so it was not invested in them. As the walls and gate into the small village came into view around the slight bend, Ralof let out a sigh of relief, and slowed his pace down to a walk instead of the light job he had been maintaining to keep up with Krassus.

The walls and gate were a spitting image of the ones that they had passed through into Helgan earlier this morning, the only difference being the river on the left side and the sawmill in the middle of it. There were guards here as well, but unlike the Imperials, they were dressed similarly to Ralof, the only difference being that their uniforms were in the color of yellow with a horse upon them rather than a bear, and their rather conical helmets. Despite the obvious ragged appearance the two fellows had, the guards did not bar them entrance, but it was noticeable that their stares followed the duo as they passed through the gates.

The village was formed around a singular T shaped road, and held a blacksmith, general wares store, an inn, and a few houses. The only discrepancy was the two wooden bridges that connected across the water to the lumber mill, one before and another after the blacksmith on the left side. They approached the first and began to stride across it. Atop the mill was a man in basic white fatigues, working the great band saw that split the logs in half from the pull of a simple lever within the structure, he eyed the two suspiciously, but did not stop his work, simply letting them pass around the side of the mill. There, staring at the river with her hands pushing against a table topped with leathers, was a woman in a green dress, she had dirty blonde hair and a sharp face, but the most fascinating thing where her eyes, they gleamed like sapphires. She didn't notice them until Ralof and Himself were standing next to her.

"Gerdur." Ralof said, his tone low but still more than a whisper. Gerdur was broken out of her starring and turned, startled, to find her brother standing there, and what could have easily been a giant in beggars cloths. She gasped, it had been a while since she had seen him, and the other one was unknown to her but she could spot a warrior from a good mile away. She turned her attention back to Ralof nearly instantly

"Ralof! Mara's mercy, it's good to see you!" she said, stepping forward to hug him. The man hugged her back as He looked on, before she continued, "But is it safe for you to be here? We had heard Ulfric had been captured..." she continued, the last comment unspoken between the two before she broke the embrace and got a good look at him. "Are you hurt? What happened?" Concern colored her voice as she held him at arms length. Ralof, free from the woman's embrace, was slow to get a word in over her, his voice still low.

"Gerdur, Gerdur, I'm fine. At least I am now." he said, sounded a bit exasperated. When he didn't continue she looked up at Him, a question forming in her mind.

"And who is this? one of your comrades?" she was hesitant to vocalize the last bit, she was a support of the rebellion but hadn't heard of them using giants to fight, even if this one was shaped much more proportionally. It scared her a bit, how He looked so much larger than life, as if the aura He carried demanded attention. Ralof turned to Him and smiled.

"Not a comrade yet, but a friend. I owe him my life in fact." he said, before turning back to his sibling, seriousness replacing the smile on his face. "Is there somewhere we can talk?" he asked, eyes staring back at the road, " No telling when the new from Helgan will reach the Imperials." he finished, before turning back to her. She dropped her arms back to her sides.

"You're right. Follow me." she said, lowing her voice as she turned around and started walking towards a small clearing past the mill. The saw roared obnoxiously behind them as another log was systematically cut and then poured into the pile. She called out to the man working the mill, "Hod! Come here a minute. I need your help with something." They moved until they were several yards from the mill, next to a large tree stump, it was even wider than Him. Gerdur turned around, and the man had moved from his station to lean against the railing, and shouted out to her in return.

"What is it woman?" he was cupping his hands up to his mouth. "Sven drunk on the job again?"

"Hod, just come here." she replied, her voice brought down to a conversational level. Hod then saw who was with her.

"Ralof! What are you doing here?" he asked, before thinking better of it, "Ah... I'll be right down." he turned away from the railing, and jogged away, moving down from the back side of the mill. As he disappeared from sight, another figure approached from the second bridge, well two actually, a small boy and a dog. The two ran up to Ralof and Himself, Ralof turning to great the boy.

"Uncle Ralof! Can I see your axe? How many Imperials have you killed? Do you really know Ulfric Stormcloak?" The boy chattered off his questions in such a way that Ralof blinked twice, the boy was incredibly excited to see his Uncle it seemed. Gerdur went to respond to her child's mannerisms and eager childish behavior.

Hush, Frodnar. This is no time for your games. Go and watch the south road. Come find us if you see any Imperial soldiers coming." she said, pointing her left index finger towards the gate entrance they had come through. Her son's smile turned into a frown, and he began to complain.

"Aw, mama, I want to stay and talk with Uncle Ralof!" It seemed that the boy was stalled from his mother's wishes by none other than the very uncle he wanted to see.

"Look at you, almost a grown man!" he said, kneeling before the lad with a smile on his face, "Won't be long before you'll be joining the fight yourself." The boy beamed at the praise from what could only be assumed to be his favorite role model, he saltued the Ralof.

"That's right! Don't worry, Uncle Ralof, I won't let those soldiers sneak up on you." The boy sharply turned, and slammed himself into something incredibly solid.

He looked down as the boy bounced off His kneecap like a pigskin, a sharp clonk and the boy was on his ass, shaking his head a bit to clear the stars out of his vision. He looked up, to see what he had hit, his eyes going wide as he first saw the gigantic leg clad in yellowish cloth. His eyes continued to looked upwards, his head moving till it was tilted nearly vertical as the boy gazed up at this Titan that cast shadows over him. His jaw agape, he let out a singular, drawn out, "Woooaah." The boy suddenly remember himself, and what he was tasked to do. "Sorry Sir-r." he stuttered out, pushing himself off the ground and then nearly sprinting towards the road, his eyes flickering back at Him, undisguised awe alight within them. As the boy ran off, Hod had finally arrived. Seeing as they were alone, Ralof took a seat on the stump, hands held together in his lap.

"Now, Ralof," Hod spoke, crossing his arms as he looked at the man and then up at Him, "what's going on? You two look pretty well done in."  
"I can't remember when I last slept..." was how Ralof replied, and now that he was looking at the man closely, He noticed the dark looks, the bags under his eyes, the man was dead beat like Hod had said, even Gerdur had noticed, and had a sharp frown creasing her face. "Where to start? Well, the news you heard about Ulfric was true. The Imperials ambushed us outside Darkwater Crossing. Like they knew exactly where we'd be. That was... two days ago, now. We stopped in Helgen this morning, and I thought it was all over. Had us lined up to the headsman's block and ready to start chopping." _It was not a way for a true warrior to die. Those who perished in the ambush were lucky to die with blade in hand._ He found Himself agreeing with the inner monologue.

"The cowards!" Gerdur said, her voice heated but still kept at a conversational level. There was anger in her features, and Hod had a similar expression. He found Himself in a similar level of agreeance.

"They wouldn't dare give Ulfric a fair trial. Treason, for fighting for your own people! All of Skyrim would have seen the truth then. But then..." Ralof paused, catching himself as he paused, "out of nowhere..." The man still couldn't believe it, which, was fair, even He had been surprised by the appearance of the creature, even if He didn't fear it. "a dragon attacked..." And like that, the cat was out of the bag, both Hod and Gerdur gasped, and looked at him with wide eyes.

Gerdur was the first to speak "You don't mean, a real, live..."  
"I can hardly believe it myself, and I was there." Ralof looked between the two of them, his arms apart and his palms upward as if to offer them a shrug as an equal explanation. "As strange as it sounds, we'd be dead if not for that dragon. In the confusion, we managed to slip away. Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?"

Gerdur responded slowly, trying to process the news. "Nobody else has come up the south road today, as far as I know."

"Good." he put his hands down, propping them up on the stump as he contemplated the situation. "Maybe we can lay up for a while. I hate to put your family in danger, Gerdur, but..." he left the last part off, it was an unspoken question.

"Nonsense." she replied, un-folding her arms, "You and your friend are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Let me worry about the Imperials." she turned to him before continuing, looking Him over. "Any friend of Ralof's is a friend of mine."

"Thanks, sister. I knew we could count on you." he replied, pushing off of the stump, standing up and stretching his arms above his head.

"I ought to get back to work before I'm missed, but... did anyone else escape? Did Ulfric..." the concern in her voice was nearly palpable at the unspoken question. The Dragon was big deal, but losing the True High King would have been devastating to them.

"Don't worry." Ralof caught on, seeking to quell her fears, "I'm sure he made it out. It'll take more than a dragon to stop Ulfric Stormcloak." For the first time in a few minutes, the three of them smiled, Himself just judging their reactions. Hod spoke up.

"I'll let them into the house and, you know, show them where everything is..." Hod started moving towards the bridge, gesturing for them to follow him. Gerdur crossed her arms again as she looked at the turned back of her husband.

"Hmph. Help them drink up our mead, you mean." her voice chased after him, but he kept walking, "Good luck, brother. I'll see you later."

Ralof smiled, as he turned to follow Hod, "Don't worry about me. I know how to lay low." As Gerdur began walking away, back towards the mill, Ralof walked next to Him, gesturing with a hand for Him to follow. The two of them crossed the bridge behind Hod, and moved up the T in the road, passing between the Inn and the general store. The walk was appealingly short, and moved to a single story stone house, a wooden thicket fence surrounding it. The roof was singularly made of thatch and a singular cow grazed in the lawn besides a bed of cabbages. A small plume of smoke wafted from the singular chimney in the back. The trio approached the singular door into the building, Hod fishing a small bronze key out of his pocket, before inserting it and opening the door.

Pushing forwards, the man opened the door for the two to follow in, only for him and Ralof to turn back to see Him inspecting the doorframe, that was aligned with His chin. "Oh." Hod said, rubbing the back of his head as He ducked inside, one arm in front of the other as He slid horizontally into the door. It was something else to see the giant reach up and stretch, the top of His hand reaching the crux of the roof. "Well..." Hod continued, turning away from the walking titan, his arms sweeping around the single room home. "This is it, our humble abode, stay for as long as you need." he said, before crossing over to the fireplace, and picking up a bottle from the mantle. Hod turned back and headed towards the door, and before he exited turned around, and starred at the two, a relatively serious look on his face.

"Don't drink all the mead without me."

With that, the door closed and Hod was gone, leaving Himself and Ralof alone in the house. The fire crackled in the silence, the heat and lighting filling the small L shaped home. Ralof availed himself to a wooden chair near the fire, sitting down in the seat, leaning back with a content sigh before looking back at Him. "Come on, make yourself at home." he said. His heart sung at that word. Home. He did not know where or what it fully was, and it pulled at Him. Subconciously, He strode over next to the man, sitting on the other side of the fire on the floor. He would have sat in a chair, but none could have supported His body. He rested His axe on the floor besides him. Even here, on the floor, He could nearly be at eye level with the man beside him, it was an interesting perspective. He had kneeled before, but never sat, not since...

 _Since when? It was hard enough looking for memories that seemed to be heavily persistent, but this was a grasp at some illusion of a straw. There was no picture, or emotion, just the words He understood and knew that He had once been something different. The word Home was a blur and most of what He could see was cold metal, it roared, different from the Dragon had, it actually sung, and made a tempo, as if it was alive. That, and the stars, the stars themselves glimmered in the harshness of cold vacuum above. His home was among the stars themselves. How... Poetic._

So enthralled by His thoughts, He had failed to notice Ralof had moved from His seat, the man grabbing two bottles from the top of the mantle, similar to the one Hod had grabbed earlier. Returning to his seat, he passed one under Krassus's drawn face, offering Him the drink. He looked towards the man, eyebrow raised as He grabbed the bottle. It was un marked, and was a golden brown glass, larger than the potion's in His back puch. A cork sealed the drink.

 **"What's this?**

Ralof, about to open his own bottle, stopped, and looked at Him, eyes wide. Had He made a mistake, some untold insult?

"How do you not know what mead is? You must truly not be from here if you haven't had mead before." he said, removing the stopper in his own before taking a swig from the bottle. He gulped it down and lowered the drink, licking his lips. "Go on, try it." It would be pore in taste to deny His host, and turned back to the bottle, using His thumb and Index finger to pop the cork out. A light brown liquid swirled in the bottle, and He took a drink. it was smooth and sweet, with a honey texture, and when he brought it away from His mouth He could feel the warmth in his stomach. Looking down, He realized that in a single taste He had drained half the bottle. A shame, it tasted nice. Ralof was staring at Him again, but with a smile on his face.

 **"It was,"** He hesitated on the words, **"Satisfying."** He nodded His head, looking at the man.

"Glad to hear it, mead is always good after a long journey." he said, "but I have to say, you look funny while holding the bottle, like you're drinking out of a bloody thimble." he laughed at that.

 **"Well maybe you should have gotten one to scale."** He said in return, smiling back. The two laughed at that, and Ralof raised his bottle towards Him. He responded in kind, the bottles clinking together in toast to their safety. It felt good to relax, and put aside the problems of the world for the moment. The two sat there, looking at the fire as the afternoon slowly creeped on.

* * *

Soon enough, the fire was the only light within the house, and the sky outside had become dark. The two has spent their time well, leisurely relaxing. Ralof had taken it upon himself to being making a stew with some of the ingredients from Gerdur's pantry, and the aroma was starting to fill the room. The two had been busy however, conversing, primarily of Him asking questions and Ralof answering Him. The primary topic had been the Civil War that was stalling in Skyrim at the moment. The war had been at a stand point for the last 6 months, the hold of Whiterun remaining neutral had inadvertently divided the continent in half between the Imperials and Stormcloaks. The ambush at Darkwater Crossing, was to be the turning point in the war for the Imperials with the capture of Ulfric, and He could see that the imperials had planned well. the continuous standpoint of the war was twisting in favor of the Imperials naturally, seeing as they could call upon reinforcements from their homeland of Cyrodil. They were trained and armed well form their base of operations in Solitude. The fighting chance the Stormcloaks had was their knowledge of terrain, and the fact that most of the natives sought for peace and freedom, leading to rebellion sects across the holds.

 _His mind was a brew like the stew above the fire, thoughts and emotions bubbled and turned, seeking his attention, but when the memories had it, they disappeared, and left a small void. he felt that was he was discussing was new, but in a way wrong. he knew he was no philosopher, but this small talk could hardly count as that. talking about the Imperials brought back remorse and yearning, but it was sour, as if it was not the same as it seemed. The Stormcloaks had been identified by a harsh scorn at the thought, but the ideologies that they sought spoke and resonated within Him._

They moved on in the conversation, speaking of the different holds and cities that dotted the lands, speaking of their different cultures, goods, and members. It turned out, that while Solitude and Windhelm were home to the Imperials and Stormcloaks respectively, they were both the biggest hubs of trade in the nation, both having open sea ports. Dawnstar was the other open sea port, but it only dealt with mining and fishing, and did it's trading by convoy due to hectic storms. To the far north atop mountains lie Winterhold, home to the famous mage's college, that was stationed on it's own pillar like pensile due to a major magical 'accident'. To the south east lie Riften, a river city that relied heavily upon their exports of several crafts, (mainly mead and special logs) and was home of the notorious Thieves Guild.

Moving clockwise they discussed Falkreath, and it's nature as an isolated city in the deep south. It was partially over shadowed by the Dwarven home city of Markarth. An ancient stone keep above the ground, the long dead dwarves had built it before their disappearance, and since then it had been occupied by humans. the city exported priceless gems and ores, but it was a very cut throat place due to the owners of the mines being shrewd and cruel people. Ralof mentioned Morthal, but skipped over it saying "The only thing there worth noting is swamps and spiders, and I bloody well hate spiders." They ventured on to the final city: Whiterun, just down river from Riverwood itself.

Stationed in the middle of the continent, it was a massive trading hub, but did not have a very prominent or well know producer of mass goods. A few attractions of course, were the Mead hall of the Companions, who were renown warriors across Skyrim, the temple of Kileath, the wind goddess, and Finally, the keep itself: Dragon's Reach. The key held legend that it was used to capture a dragon, and that a skull rested on a plac above the throne within. the real interest to Him however, had been the fact that in the Civil War, Whiterun had declared to be neutral. it was confusing, how could no not choose a side when each one was on your door step. To accent to the madness, there had been fighting in the streets from supports of each group. How could a leader lead while his subjects squabbled amongst themselves?

The two would have continued, but were interrupted by the door opening, and all three of the family entered the domicile, looking tired and worn out. They smiled however, upon seeing Ralof at the fire stirring the stew, and closed the door, basking in the aroma and the heat of the fire. He scooted to the side, letting Gerdur come up to her brother while Hod and Frodnar set about the table, prepping it for the five of them. "At least you can do more than fight and drink." she said, looking at the stew. He smiled in return, pausing his stirring.

"I happen to be decent at cooking thank you very much, and if you remember a sharp eye with a bow." he said in return. Her had grabbed the spinning ladle and brought up a small amount of the stew to taste. She blew on it as it steamed in the firelight, before taking a small sip. She made a satisfied noise at the taste, before turning to him again.

"And who taught you how to cook what you brought back from your 'hunts'?" She received a laugh before he responded.

"You of course." He returned the ladle from her hand to the pot, she chuckled, moving back towards the table, and grabbing two small cloths. She returned, grabbing the pot with the cloths and removed it from it's raised hanger, returning it to the table where it was placed on a circular stone tablet. Cups had been set out at the rectangular table, with 2 on each of the long sides, and one on the short nearest of the fire. The boy and his father had done well in filling them with mead, and setting about a fresh bowl of some selective apples. Three chairs were already at the table for the family, while ralof pulled his up.

He rose from his spot against the wall, and approached the spot obviously left void, before kneeling, His knees against the ground that left Him still towering over the seated members. "I'm sorry to have you on the floor, but we don't have anything quite big enough to seat you." Gerdur said, sheepishly. It was of no concern to Him, as it was familiar, cold stone would not bother Him at all.

 **"Worry not, I understand, thought it would likely take a seat of stone to properly seat me. I came unannounced."** He replied, a wave of His hand in an attempt avail her concerned. Ralof smiled at that, and grabbed one of the bowls in the middle, using the ladle to fill it with some stew before returning the ladle and grabbing an apple. It went likewise around the table, before He too was to receive food. He gently reached forward, and grabbed one of the small wooden bowls, His index finger and thumb deftly picking the ladle and pouring the soup within the bowl. He decided against the apple, and sought out the silverware.

Unfortunately, it seemed the silverware was made for someone much smaller than Him. everyone else was already tucking into their meals, and He did not wish to disrupt them, so He did the sensible thing, and grabbed the bowl in hand and drained it in a matter of seconds. It had a satisfying taste, and though he did not garner much, it still sat well with Him. He lowered the bowl, only to find everyone staring at Him.

 **"It was... most satisfactory."** he uttered, nodding to them. Ralof was slack jawed at the speed of which the man had devoured the meal. He reached forward with the bowl and pored more of the stew in, the rest of them slowly eating but using their eyes to follow His movements as He downed the bowl again within seconds. It didn't even cross His mind that the food was still cooling down, and that the reason that the others were not eating nearly as fast was because they were taking the opportunity to blow the hot meal to a reasonable temperature. No one questioned Him about the fact that in less than twenty seconds He had consumed two full servings without a pause or any sign of discontent from the heat.

The rest took their time to finish their meals while He politely waited, and conversation began as Ralof asked about the well being of his sister and her family. He watched on in interest, seeing as to how they interacted with one another, mainly because most conversations between Him and someone else ended with a singular answer from Him and more questions left unspoken than answered. His mind was soon on the precipice of wandering when He was drawn into the conversation by Gerdur.

"I never got the chance to ask you earlier," she said, looking down the table towards Him, "But what do you plan to do now that you're out of captivity?" It was an understandable question, but unfortunately He didn't have much of an answer for it. He pondered for a second, rubbing His chin.

 **"I am not quite sure. I have a feeling that it would be best if I travelled, perhaps seeing the different keeps and plying my skills of trade to the people."** There was vagueness in the answer, but it was by far the most honest one He had for her. Gerdur however looked relieved by His answer.

"Well, if that's the case, would you mind doing me, and Riverwood itself a favor? The Jarl of Whiterun needs to know about the dragon, and we desperately need more guards here to defend us, no one is really free to travel from their work here, but it would mean the world to us." she said, but continued before He could respond. "On the other hand, it would help even more if you mentioned that a minor group of bandits has set up in the old mine near the southern road. They've been raiding caravans and travelers passing through the area and have become a nuisance in general." Ah, problems of the people, this would be a start.

 **"I would be honored to deliver the message to the Jarl, but a question presents itself, how does one get to Whiterun from here, and how long would it take?"** If He could help the people, it would no doubt open more doors for Him, and allow Him to learn more about the land, perhaps even face a Dragon on His own. _His thoughts led Him about, giving meaning to the words. He could see that protection was a note within, but Destruction held the same manner of importance._

"Oh, it's just half a day's journey north of here into the valley, just follow the road and the river and you'll be there in no time. Though I would advise travelling tonight, and we would be happy to have you stay here." she said, a smile on her face,. Hod followed dup here statement.

"While it would be a great help for us, let us return the favor, tomorrow, we should go up to the general store and try and find you some apparel that fits you." he said, "It wouldn't do you any good to approach the guards in the rags of a prisoner with an axe in hand, they might just send you away." Now that was a thought, He did have to say the current wears were unfitting for Him. Perhaps He could approach the smith instead to acquire some armor. He voiced the idea aloud.

"I wouldn't do that." Hod interrupted, "The smith is an Imperial supporter, and has some pretty exuberant prices even for a small village like ours. Not only would he try and charge you an arm and a leg for even a chest piece, he would definitely tell any Imperial patrols about you." That was an issue, He was in dire need of some actual armor, but He wasn't willing to take a chance at getting captured again just to lose it all.

 **"I understand. As it stand then, I shall attempt to purchase some wears tomorrow, provided I can fit through the door."** He said. They didn't catch it at first, nodding and turning back to their meals. The boy was the first to catch on, and bgan to smile, then chuckle, and then full blown laughter passed from his lips. The other three took notice, and Ralof stared at Him, before cracking a smile and joining in on the laugh. All He did was smile in return. When the laughter stopped he spoke.

"Never expected you to have a sense of humor." he said, shaking his head and returning to his meal. soon enough, everyone else had finished, and had begun to set aside their bowls and began cleaning the table. Ralof and Himself simply sat and discussed a few more things, starring at the fire as the other three prepared for bed. Ralof departed from the conversation after some time, sitting in his chair near the fire. He however, stayed awake, watching the flames before silently getting up, and making sure everyone had fully gone to sleep, headed towards the door. He wasn't tired at all.

And Justice never sleeps.

* * *

 **Author's Note: 7K again, but with no combat surprisingly, I know, I know, what type of Warhammer Fanatic are you with no violence? Well, Skyrim intro makes it hard to go hard in the bloodshed department 24/7. It was a little bit odd writing this one, and I feel satisfied, but it's definitely missing something. As for the reviews, I enjoy reading feed back and seeing people are following my stuff. As for the Black Carapace, some people write it as being on the outside of the flesh, and some of the earlier space marine artworks backs that up, but besides that I've been rolling towards making it so I can get our "Dragonborn" properly armed. (In the next chapter that is.) Just as a head's up, I'm not actually to well versed with Space Marines (Believe it or not, I'm actually an Eldar player, but it's really hard to actually write about them, their culture, psyker nature, Biological racial superiority, and explain their interactions.) but I'm glad to see that my interpretation on Hypno Indoctrination is somewhat correct. Originally I had decided between a Space marine, or using _Sir Markus Kruber_ from Vermintide 2 in fantasy, but that would have been a much more straightforward story line, and easier to predict. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and if you see improvement on conversational/setting areas like this, please tell me because I'm not well versed in writing them.**


	5. Part1, Chapter 4: One Step At A Time

He slunk out the door like a cat, making sure to close it softly behind him, before gazing out into the night. The moon, or rather, both of them, one white and the other orange, hung in the sky, not a cloud to mask their presence. There was a chill in the air, and a slight wind nipped at His pant's legs. He waited before moving across the wooden deck and onto the grass, His eyes sweeping back for anyone who might have been passing near by. Thankfully, the only other living thing near Him was the farm animal, and it was currently asleep near the cabbages. He moved on.

He slipped off the deck in a subtle amount of movement, nearly gliding on His feet as He stepped onto the stone road. He looked down towards the intersection, but would not approach it, rather going to the far end of the T in the opposite direction. The guards from before, while obviously being rotated out of shift, would be watching the main road, and if the small bouts of light were anything to go by, they had torches and were set at the gates. While He could definitely leave that way, the guards would no doubt be suspicious and questioning as to why He was leaving in the dead of night. Instead, He opted for rotating around the back of the farm house, until He was directly in front of the inside wall.

The wall was made of stone, but it was poorly made of simple rocks and cementing, leaving several exposed footholds. While none were quite large enough for Him, it would only take a decently positioned one before He could just grab the top of the wall itself and hoist Himself over the middle. The top part was covered by a simple wooden roof, and a long running, waist high rope to prevent falls. He slid under the rope, before swiftly turning himself about and lowering bodily down the opposite side.

Outside the walls, the wildlife of Skyrim rose to meet Him in the form of wild grass, large pines, and plentiful shrubbery. He lowered Himself to a crouch, slipping through the under brush towards the road, away from the gate. He paced Himself, watching His feet as He deftly skimmed around pebble clumps and crossed over open rock formations. Large, low hanging branches were pushed out of the way with tender care before being gentle returned to their natural resting place. He was several meters from the gate now, but the guards may have been able to see Him if He moved out now. taking care, He held to the side of the road, and moved His body sideways, carefully waiting for a bend to appear in the road that would mask his presence.

He eventually crossed it, several minutes walk away from the gates now but it let Him step onto the road without exposure. Gerdur had mentioned that there had been bandits plaguing travelers, but she hadn't a clue to their hideout, if anything, it would be up to Him to find out where the frequented and passed in the night, even with His sight and speed, it would have taken hours, but thankfully, He already had an idea to where they might have been.

When Ralof and Him had been walking down the road, they had passed a small dirt pathway leading off from the main road. They had continued on, but he had at least noticed the path, and the footprints that had marked it rather recently. based upon assumption, He could safely say that the Bandits were held up in some type of cave, just a few minutes off the road, but just hidden enough that it wouldn't warrant investigation from a passer by. That would be the best place to start.

Free from observing eyes, He broke into a sprint down the road, His limbs barely making noise as they pumped up and down, nearly flying Him down the path on their gathered momentum. He sprinted in a near blur of movement, and with a barely a noise save for the scattering of wildlife in His presence. While not afraid of Him exactly, the natural world around Him was very close to the human world, a basic instinct to get out of the way of something so unnatural. It didn't matter to Him, as long as the other predator's stayed out of the way, it would be a hassle to have to deal with every spider or bear that may have crossed His way.

In less than thirty minutes with no interruption, He slowed down as the familiar rise in the road started to appear. In the dark, the pathway was nearly invisible, but it stood out as if it was still day time. He turned on to the path, and slowly trailed it at a moderate speed, His head looking about as shrubbery was parted and the path slowly wound it's way in the direction of the mountain side. The path was well worn, a show of frequency, which was a reasonable insurance to assume that there were more than a few bandits that harassed the road.

Five minutes of cautious movement rewarded Him in the form of a pair of doors. They were old, cast with iron hinges upon a heavy log frame. The frame itself was positioned and secured within the entrance of a cave. The outside was not much to look at, with a few extra barrels, an old chair, and a lamp holder, but the inside of the door, while with no windows, had a slight glow protruding from underneath. It was occupied, and only fools and renegades would hide in a such a place. Moving forward, bent low, He rested one hand against the door as he listened. His axe hung freely in His hand, waiting to assail any foe on the other side. Seeing as there was nothing, He pushed the door open.

* * *

The inside of the cave was much warmed than the outside, and inspecting the cave it was easy to figure out why. The shaft of the cave, after the framing for the door, abruptly slanted downwards for several feet, supported every so often by wooden cross beams and intersected with a few lit torches. A wooden ramp rested upon the right side of the walkway, probably to allow materials to be pulled up rather than carried up the slope. The floor as dirt, but the surrounding walls and ceiling were a dark stone, and every so often a differential vein of some material would appear among the cracks. He slowly crouched as he took a step further, His height to large to stand fully in the cave, leaving His already massive appearance hunched and filling the remaining space. He put one hand to the ground to balance Himself, and moved down the slope, sliding down it smoothly with the rustling of falling pebbles and shifting dirt to accompany Him.

As the floor leveled out he spotted something of interest, in the form of a taunt string and a metal stake in the floor. He walked forward, staring at the stake and then tracing the thin string as it stretched across the dirt path, went vertical against a support beam, and then went into a small wooden hole in the ceiling. Right before a suspiciously out of place door way. It wasn't like the door from above, rather, it was much thinner and made with fewer boards, but He had already assumed it's purpose. it was simple trap, the string breaking allowing a hidden mechanism to release the doors and let fall what would most assuredly be boulders. What a barbaric and obvious charade.

 _It is not meant to kill, merely to alarm. A canning distraction in the form of potential death. If only it had been that simple to find on Gora-_ The thought cut off abruptly, and now He was upset by the distraction. not only was He occupied with engaging hostiles, despite being un-aware of his presence, but the memory had nearly given him some information; A Name. While it may not have solved anything, it could easily be used to piece together what past he might uncover.

He left the trap be, ducking to the side and crossing around it upon the wooden planks. The trap had no use for Him, despite that it could possibly gather all His enemies together at once, which, despite His form and prowess, he was still un armored, and enough blades could put Him down. He could hopefully solve this issue tomorrow morning. Until then, it would be best to engage the enemy on His terms, alone, in the dead of night. The pathway rounded a sharp curve, and the torches disappeared. He slid His hand along the wall, before peaking His head out, inspecting the area beyond.

The pathway opened up into a sizable cave, the entrance He was in going from solid ground to a well made wooden bridge situated above a small under ground lake of foggy dark water, in the shape of a T, at least, it would have been, if note for the draw bridge sitting in the middle area that was raised. Directly across from Him sat another entrance, and next to it was a raised out crop with several shelves, and most importantly of all, a rather oversized lever upon a rock pedestal. That would give Him access to the cave beyond, and His quarry. he made to step out on to the onto the bridge, only to pause instantly at the sound of voices to His right. Frozen, He listened closely, selectively listening to the vocals despite the sounds of torches behind Him and what was most likely a fire to His right.

"I'm tellin you, someone might just wander in here." the first voice said, carried off the walls of the cave, the man was nervous, and his concern was more than apparent about the rather revealed nature of their hide out. _It was not entirely unfounded, it was almost child's play to find the path and follow it._ A second voiced merely laughed in the face of the first's concerns.

"Ha, as if." the new voice said, "We're fifteen minutes away from the road, not to mention that we have a look out during the day, as well as the rock trap to warn us if someone actually makes it in." There was a pause, followed by another chuckle. "You're just paranoid." _A paranoid mind is an alert one._

That needed to stop soon.

The second voice spoke again "Still" he started to be cut off. "Forget it." was the reply it received, "Go to sleep, you've got watchin the morning." There was grumbling to that, before a large amount of shuffling. The fire was put out, the only lamination now from the fog on the water and the far wall mounted torch in the stone.

He moved. Crouching low from his position, He hesitantly began to reach His feet out on to the bridge, keeping pressure in the balls first, and then planting Himself firmly without a sound. he looked to the right where the voices had originated from, and found that the two men he had heard talking were now within bed rolls of harsh cloth and sewn leathers, facing away from Him. they were down below, next to the water, and the fire they had recently put out still emanated the glow of embers and a slight smoke that was waiving up towards the ceiling of the cave. On the far side of the bridge, a ramp lowered towards the floor where the men were at. He moved across cautiously, with the silence of a ghost, the only sign of His passing the displacement of air.

He slid down the ramp, axe held up at His side as he returned His feet to solid soil. he moved forward, raising Himself to full height as he approached the two sleeping men. As He closed the distance to a few feet, the first man's eyes opened and starred at Him.

There in the shadows of the dying fire, was a figure of horrors. It was huge, as tall as house, it's broad form covered in nothing but a pair of ragged pants, armed with a vicious gleaming axe in it's hand. The man's eyes widened as the figure reached forward for him in a sudden burst of quickness. There was shear fear in his eyes, and his mouth opened, squawking out a shrill scream that was swiftly silenced by the swift and firm slam of an axe pick lancing itself through the man's trachea. It was enough a warning though, as the second man had woken up.

"huh" was all that was out of his mouth, before a fast moving blur slid next to him, and suddenly his left arm was gone from the elbow and below. He didn't even get the chance to scream before His head was grabbed and forcefully slammed into the stone wall, all but obliterating the skull of the man. The fight, or rather, take down had been rather messy, and both he and his articles were sprayed with blood, His free arm covered in pieces of gore. He shook what He could off, and instead moved back towards the ramp. he turned right, following the pathway at a crouch as the roof lowered suddenly. A turn later, and it was standing among the book cases, and in front Him lay the lever. A quick push from His hand sent it reversed.

The drawbridge lowered sharply, and a much quicker pace, until it landed with a rather large thump. If the short scream had not alerted anyone beyond this point of an intruder, that most certainly did. He decided it would be in His best interest and wait for them to come to him. he grabbed the singular torch that was near the bookcases and threw it into the water, casting the overlook in darkness. His large eyes pierced the gloom and shade with ease. He thankfully did not have to wait long.

Three pairs of feet could be heard pounded down the hallway leading to the drawbridge, moving with a haste an the often clank of metal upon metal. Armored, and armed with what he could not know. The runners slowed down as they approached the drawbridge, before stepping out of the entry point. Two of them where human, a male clad in iron armor with a shield and a mace, and a female clothed in strange pelts and armed with a crude single handed axe, but the third, it drew a disgust from within Him that he did not know He possessed.

It was clad in crude plate, similar to the male's but where that man carried a mace and shield, this, creature, had opted for a double handed war hammer, and held it at the ready as it crossed the bridge slowly. _It had a single band of hair, tied back into a large tail atop it's bald head. Tusk exposed from a large under lip jaw, spittle glinting upon them as it stared at Him with beady, red, hate filled, eyes. It opened it's massive mouth to scream at Him in anger and rage, a mighty roar that it's kin repeated in vicious uproar in preparation for the coming blood shed._

No.

The creature in front of Him was not the same of the un-unnervingly clear memory. it had two tusk, but a regular jaw set, and only a small pony tail of black across it's head. it's eyes where not hate filled and read, He could see them from here, and it wasn't opening it's mouth to scream at Him. It merely walked cautiously across the bridge behind the two humans. Still, despite the differences, He felt a rage building within Him, speaking, no, yelling at Him to destroy the _xenos_ in front of Him with a single minded intensity. _It was well deserved, no matter the differences it was still a Xenos._ The thought compelled Him, and with a split second to formulate a plan, He sprung from His hiding spot and flew onto the bridge.

He landed between the humans and the _Xeno_ with a cataclysmic shake that threatened to destroy the wooden bridge. Thankfully it held despite the shaking, though mainly due to the wide spread position o His feet spanning across it. All three of the bandits yelled out in shock as they were sent reeling backwards, lowering themselves to the bridge or in the woman's case, falling over. He turned within an instant towards the green skinned monstrosity, His eyes eyeing the primitive plate and where best to strike. joints were covered by simple cloth, waist was bound by a leather belt, neck was highly exposed, no knee guards. His axe was hard swung, wide, to leverage enough force to sever the knee in twain. The beast screamed aloud, falling down, but it still resisted it's imminent death, raising it's warhamnmer up at the return swing. The swing was reaching it's zenith when He heard the air displacement behind Him from the quick movement of a rather heavy object.

Quicker than a serpent, His hand lashed out behind Him, snatching the half of the mace as it began to descend upon His turned back. He rested His palm heavily upon the steel shaft, and began to squeeze. He paid no attention as the metal beneath his hand slowly bended to His strength, nor the yells of the man as his hand was caught partially in the incredibly strong grip, and neither the wild beating of the wooden shield upon His wrist, where the wood was beginning to smash and crack against iron hard flesh and stone wrought bone. He finished the _Xenos_ off with a bow that caved it's skull, and sent it flailing into the waters below, it's weapon dropping to the bridge in a clatter. He turned to face the warrior with what remained of his useless lump of steel that was once a mace. He was paused momentarily by a small pain in His side.

He looked down, and was thoroughly surprised to find that the woman who had fallen early had risen to a crouch and had planted the axe in His side with both hands. She smiled at the blow, and He was forced to respect that, it was His mistake after all. He had focused fully upon the swiftest death for the greenskin menace, and His free hand had stopped the second most noticeable threat. His focus would not be impaired again, He swore to Himself, but first, to avenge this blow dealt by those who would rather stay silent than truly fight. The smile on the woman's face disappeared as soon as His piercing gaze turned upon her.

He released the mace, pushing against it in an unexpected turn of force. The man was sent several paces by the force of the motion. She was slightly pushed away by the shield in her ally's arm, her face in horror as He simply reached down and removed the axe in a smooth motion, the awful sound and squelching of steel leaving a wound. there was little blood, but even that was dark, thick, and already congealing on the axe blade. It was not these factors that made her and her partner tremble in their boots, but the stare that He had locked on to her, dark, brooding, and above all, uncaring. it was just inhuman to see that the giant hadn't even flinched at the blow, nor when He removed the axe. He gripped the shaft of wood, encompassing it in His gigantic grip to the point that it looked like a bladed iron knuckle guard. She didn't even had to scream as he was suddenly in front of her, hand raised into a harsh fist.

Suddenly there was a pain in her chest, and she was at a loss for words, she looked down slowly, as if she was moving through a swamp. There, within the confines of her bosom, rested the axe head horizontally, the blade completely sunk into her ribcage to the point that the angle and pressure of the blow was squirting blood onto the axe handle. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, a soundless scream implanted upon her features as she slowly stumbled and toppled off the bridge, trying to clutch at the axe. She splashed into the water unceremoniously, joining the other corpse there as her blood filled and mingled with the orc's in the dark water.

There was no retaliation from the shield bearer for the death of his second comrade, only the sound of a weapon being thrown into the water and of iron boots clomping across wooden boards as he ran away from the Giant. There would be none of that. He reached back, gripping the wooden haft of the fallen war hammer in his open hand. Bringing it to bear with His own axe, He lunged across the bridge in three steps, closing the distance with the running bandit. The war hammer rose behind Him, and came in at a high angle. The hammer fell.

The man's leg snapped forward as he was sent onto his rear by the force of the swing, yelling out in pain. He landed heavily, but despite the pain, the man still managed to prop himself up on his arms, and was about to start backing away before the reverse swing of the hammer shattered his other knee cap. The yell was replaced with a roar, tears welling up in his eyes at the now, unfunctional legs, he looked up with blurry eyesight. The man saw the shine of the axe head despite the blood coating it, he already knew what was coming next, but still persisted, raising one of his arms and shaking it in a stopping gesture. "No, no, no, no!"

 **"Die in silence, Traitor."** He spoke as the axe descended towards the man's next. The exertion behind the blow caused the blade to complete sever the head, and implant it into the dirt floor. That final kill would not be tallied, for the man had run, leaving behind a noble death as his comrade's died. _Cowards die in shame_.

For him, it was a truth that could not be questioned. It was etched within Him, as much apart of him as his physical body, alongside the hate.

That hate was questionable however, there was a driving force behind it, more than a simple idea could ever produce. The memory was His, that was most assured, but where had it been and what fuel such a conflict against such creatures, was it better not to just avoid them? _Because in the end, you cannot avoid the inevitable._ And the human humans who fight alongside those of tusk and green skin? _Those who do not stand with you, are an enemy to be crushed. Already has it been decided their names, a just one to those who betray their own species, whether in comradeship with xenos or for simple gain; Traitors_

He had His answers.

He turned and sprinted, armed now with axe and hammer towards the drawbridge's entrance. The hallway around it was lit with a few torches, but nothing nearly enough to remove the shadows. The hallway itself was more so of an open room., blocked off to a singular walkway dur to a small cordon of wooden barricade wall and a pair of iron doors. One of the doors was the entrance to behind the barricade, where a table and chair reside, alongside a few cloth sacks, a rather large and embraided chest, and a series of weapon racks. The door opposite however, was a mere blockage to a small coven in the stone wall, where a singular bedroll lay. The purpose of such a thing was clear, and thankfully there was no current occupant left to the hands of these brigands. He moved on, heading downwards and into the next area.

He was surprised, that was for sure.

The path opned up into a cavern, even larger than the last. He was in the back hand left side doorway, the main entrance, on an outcrop, framed by a rail and wooden walkway in front of Him a few feet ahead, that lead left and upwards to a second alcove with continuous railing, that lead to a small, single person bridged that crossed to a natural walkway on the opposite side of the room. At the end of the walkway lay an underground waterfall. To the left of His position it lead downwards further to another level and yet another underground lake filled with shallow black water and a foot length mist of fog. The floor below was home to a large stone fire pit with a bellows and wooden mechanism attached; a forge. Both the room and the forge was occupied.

There were three bandits within, none on His current level, and none seemed reasonably armored. They all were armed in leathers and hides, the man occupying the forge didn't even have a shirt on, the heat being so intense. The two others, female alike were above, one upon the alcove, the other across the bridge. Both of the women were armed with bows and small sheaths at their sides for dirks or daggers, where as the man was busy with the hot metal, but there was no doubt a weapon down their for him as well. The only threat that presented itself was the singular archer on the far side of the bridge, simply because there was no way to reach her. The bridge would most likely fail to support his weight, and the gap was too large to cross for even Him.

The path forward was laid out for Him.

He sprinted forward hard, His pace eating up the ground to the walkway in three large bounds, he raised the axe in his right hand silently, as soon as His foot hit the floorboards on the forth step the axe reared back and by then they were very aware of His presence. Both of the archers made to un-sling their bows, shouts of alarm raising from them at the foe in their midst, the man at the forge dropping the heated bar of metal he was holding and reaching for a great sword on the table behind him. On the fifth step, He let go.

The axe was released from His hand with all the force of an hurricane, and spun a full six times before it collided with it's target. The throw was imperfect, and He could tell as soon as He released the axe. The weight of the axe was mostly in the head, but the length of the wooden shaft and leather bound handle evened some of the leverage out, making it somewhat miserable for throwing. Still, He had calculated the range correctly, and the axe landed head first in it's target, unfortunately, not due to a fault of His own, but by some perverse luck, the hand landed in the woman's shoulder from where she was drawing her bow instead of her chest. It was not a kill hit, but if the agonizing screams were anything to go by, then she had been thoroughly incapacitated.

He raised His shoulder and carried on, stomping up the ramp with a charge towards the other archer who had finally unslung her bow, alas, she found out that she was too late even as she instinctively reached for an arrow. In the narrow confines of the alcove walkway where she had stood, there was no room to dodge the near impossible speed of the charge from a four foot wide behemoth. As His forearm collided with her jaw, she was aloft, all of the speed carrying her as He lead her head first into the stone wall three feet behind her previous position, and with a might slam, obliterating her skull. He lowered His now gore caked arm and turned about, prepared for the final bandit who was now attempting to charge up the ramp, war cry upon lips and great sword rearing back in mockery of His own precise and silent form. He strode thrice in return to intercept. The great sword reared up, and His foe's face twisted into a feral smile.

That blasphemous smile turned to unkept shock as His open hand caught the sword mid swing, by the blade itself.

The blade sunk into His palm, held away from his face, the tip a mere half foot away in the swing, and He returned the previous smile with His own. It was dark, showing perfect teeth that shined in the half light of the cavern. A singular drop of blood streaked away from His hand and coursed it's way down His wrist, but the blade did not move. The man began to tug, first slightly, and then wrenching backwards, attempting to remove the steel from an impossible mortal grip, His arms transfects upon the hand as His pulls became more and more desperate. The bandit's eyes widened significantly as His gore stricken arm flexed, veins appearing and a sharp crack echoed from the center of His palm. The sword shattered as His hand fully clenched, the upper three feet of the blade falling away into the waters below as the bandit flew backwards from His exertions to remove the now broken blade. The blade nearly fell out of His hands as he landed at the bottom of the ramp, and he watched in horror as the Giant approached, His hand opened to inspection to find that the wound was already healing itself.

He leaned down as he approached the man, who feebly attempted to scramble backwards, picking him up by the shoulder with His hand. He looked into the man's eyes and inspected him. They were conflicted with emotions, but they were all of the same variety, a unhealthy balance of unbelief, of callousness, of hate, and most of all, present above all those, fear. Fear was the killer of men, and here it was most present. He did not bite back the slight frown of disgust that placed itself upon His features. He held the bandit out at arm's length, the war hammer held, underhanded rearing back behind His side. He swung forward, and as it sang forward, released the man onto it. The bandit flew, the war hammer carrying the man up by the chest until he smashed against the rocks above. He let the hammer fall, and the man fell with it with the grace of a bag of rocks, landing on the floor with a deep groan and several muffled crushing sounds. The bandit was unconscious, and soon enough, he would be dead. Seeing as there were no further enemies about, He turned about, and slung the hammer upon His shoulder.

* * *

He had traversed the cave in a clean sweep once more, checking for any bandits that may have fled or perhaps arrived after the combat. Though he frowned upon looting, feeling that such a thing was beneath Himself, it felt as if a dishonor to the dead, however, what renegade has honor in life? He began in the first cavern, the only thing worth taking was a rather small bag of coin alongside the skeletal remains of an unfortunate fellow who had been caught in a minor cave in. The journal that resides next to the decrypt body spoke of the figure being a captive of the bandits, used to toiled away in hopes of expanding their hide out. Nothing besides watered down alcohol remained in the alcove with the lever. He moved on into the hall with the barred store room.

Funnily enough, the iron door had been un

* * *

locked, most likely occupied by one of the bandit's that lie in the water. The table, while not exactly clean, was occupied by a book that was titled _Clairvoyance_ alongside several coins more and an iron dagger that was buried into the wooden boards. The coins were added to the pouch with a swiftness as he inspected the weapon racks, only to be met with a slight disappointed at their occupation of strictly one handed blades that would be ill fitted for His hands. The chest however was an entirely different problem.

It was large and heavy, coming up to His waist in height. It was heavily endowed with golden and copper livery, and had an ornate crest and lock set upon it. Unlike the door, it was still locked, and did not appear as if it had been opened in a long time. he kneeled over it, checking the seems and the lock for a simple way in, but the chest remained amazingly sealed tight, an impressive feet from what He had seen of this place. He did not wish to go fishing for keys among the bodies, so resolved the problem with a much more brutal approach. A solid kick, right to the side of the lock mechanism. If He had been a lesser man, His foot would have broke and He would have been hobbling away curses upon His lips. Instead, He merely grunted at the pain, and kneeled back down, to inspect the damage done. The chest had not opened fully, but it appeared that the lock mechanism had somewhat weakened, leaving the lid to crack and wobble with an inch of opening. It was enough for Him to gain a grip upon the inside and wretch it open with sounds of tearing metals, revealing an inner sanctum filled with riches.

The chest was filled with several hundred coins, alongside quite a few shining gems. Ancient scrolls were piled within, perhaps containing knowledge of this world, and amongst it all were two distinctive items. The first, was a handle, a very simple thing, made of glinting steel and polished wood about eight inches in length and one thick topped by a small six inch cross guard, and perforated on the bottom by a curved counter weight to frame the hand hold. It was a handle of astounding make, and all along it were ancient runes and scripture, a work of art in pristine form.

The other item, was by no means dull in comparison. it was a double handed axe, made of a fine steel and a haft made of smooth pine wood, dressed up by leather strips from pommel to tip in leather strips, in a swirling symmetrical helix. The axe, unlike His previous one, was double sided, and with a much larger blade, larger than the length of His hand. It was held in a large leather brace, combined with a singular thick strap mean to be slung across one's back. With a few modifications like a buckle, He could more than likely make it into a belt holster. He left both items within the chest, and went about to the final cavern.

The forge area below was barren save for a few clumps of iron and some very shoddily made weapons that not even a merchant would sell, leaving the only thing of interest a small leather bound book that was inscribed _Light Armor Smithing_ that found it's way into His hands as he continued to search, heading to the alcove above. The alcove was not incredibly large, but it was divided, the first part of the room acting as a sort of kitchen or preparation area, if the hanging peasants, the keg of ale, the large pile of skinned hides and furs, and the small fire pit were anything were to go by. A table was occupied by several plates and bowls of wood, a few pieces of food residing upon it. The second part of the room, separated by a natural made door frame, led into a store room, the side wall was stacked high with crates and barrels upon wooden shelves. The far wall had been granted a singular table, with nothing but a few musty books, more gems and coins, alongside a singular bronze key. The coins and gems found their way into His side pouch, and the key, was left into His hands, it was a simple, rather unremarkable, brass key. He held on to it as he walked out onto the walkway, when He noticed something a bit more important.

A small, rocky pathway, lead behind the waterfall at the back of the room. He slowly traversed over the balustrade, and onto the jutting rock formations, testing the path way with one foot in front of the other, cautiously preparing for the inevitable shake and crumbling of the rocks as His massive frame set His weight about. But it never came, instead, He continuously traversed the path until he was directly behind the face of the waterfall, to find a small chest, a much more conservative, wooden version than the one in the other room. He looked down at the key within His hands, and with a shrug, inserted it. Miraculously, the key turned the lock and the chest groaned open, revealing a few more coins. He nodded, throwing the pouch upon His belt into the chest, before reclosing and locking it. He crouched down, removing it from it's mossy stone confinement, and put it upon His shoulder, creeping back amongst the path. He past by the swordsman and the archer, gathering His broken sword and her dirk respectively, depositing them within the chest.

He returned to the store room, and passed the handle, axe, and the coins into the chest as well, garnering a healthy weight upon the already sizeable load. He summarized a good four hundred lay accumulated within, a decent size no doubt. The book had found it's way in there as well, but He knew, by know means, was he a smith. He picked it up, inspecting it again, before skimming through the pages. His attention was perked by the mention of hides as a visible means of clothing, while barbaric, could be very resistant against the elements, and inexpensive if one were to acquire the resources themselves. He thought back to the pile of hides in the cooking area, alongside what the archer and her sword wielding companion were wearing similar attempts of barbaric clothing. Those would suffice no doubt.

* * *

When He exited the cave, a full hour later, The chest upon His shoulder was well and truly fit to burst from it's contents. The moon was still high in the sky thankfully, leaving Him plenty of time to return to Riverwood. He moved at a slower pace than a full sprint, as to avoid making noise. He passed by the guards in the same manner as before, sliding the chest up first upon the wall and then climbing up after it. He slowed His place again and moved towards the house, making sure to minimize the rattle of the coins as he opened the still unlocked door, and moved inside it, making sure not to alert those sleeping within. A profitable night by no lesser means.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hey guys, sorry I was a little late on this one, by no means did I forget to write, thought Fanfiction deleted 2K words Wednesday night that I was going to have to rewrite anyway, and Thursday and Friday I came home drained. I'm trying to bring about a new perspective and thought line for a story. I know this chapter is a little bit inadequate, but it suits a filler chapter well. I want to make a notice here and now however that's been biting me every since I read it. By no means necessary, do I enjoy people telling me How I should do things. I want to make this clear with the reviews, that I have specifically asked people to give constructive criticism, and tell me what Story lines they would like to see done. What I have not asked for, and do not want, is people randomly dropping stuff in the reviews just for the sake of putting it there, if you have an idea, flush it out, PM me, and we'll brainstorm. The next thing I wanted to address with the reviews, is that I do not want the views of people and what they believe is wrong and right. You have to remember, I'm writing a story about a fantasy realm that now has a Demigod hailing from a horrible sci-fi fantasy universe that has a memory loss issue. I don't care about the right and wrongs from the perspective of history because I am writing a characters view who is in the middle of it. I do not want to see "Krassus shouldn't be siding with this faction because they're wrong about X, or they're actually the bad guys." I already know that, point is Krassus doesn't and if I'd meta game that, it would ruin the story. That being said, next chapter is going to be Krassus heading to Whiterun, where it is going to be a very violence lacking chapter. It will be longer, mainly because of dialogue, but also because of all the scenery I have to lay because Whiterun is a major setting in the story. Anyway, that's all, If you guys wanna talk besides the reviews hit me up, you know my name, and I appreciate the chats, they keep me interested and challenge me to do this.**


	6. Part 1, Chapter 5-1: A Bigger World

The dawn was heralded by the rousing call of a Rooster, it's voice echoing across the village and up into the mountains to announce the start of a new, productive day to the small hamlet. Guards were rotated with their peers, those coming off shift hungry for a warm meal and a nice comfy bed, while the early birds began to awake and set about for their day. Sunlight filtered in through the sole window within the house, the bright beam crossing the floor slowly, creeping over His stretched out legs. He had returned Hours before, and had barely moved sense, locked once more in a searching trance for the memories His consciousness produced earlier. They were becoming clearer, but not by much. At best He gained a certain color or shape, at worst He got a blur and verbal mumbling that even he could not decipher, as if it was a recording left within water. He resigned from the search and instead went about to the scrolls within the chest.

Unfortunately, those were even more confusing. The scrolls were large pieces of rolled cloth, inscribed with hundreds of ruins in a different language, unlike anything He had ever seen. They were inscribed differently on each one, leading Him to believe that the scrolls each were of a different product. To Him, they were near useless, but to the bandits, they had obviously meant something, either of material value or memoir value. A scowl crossed His features as he read through them, un-able to even put a cent of intellect into unravelling the mysterious items. He was interrupted by shuffling and a yaw.

On the other side of the room, underneath the window lie the double bed of Gerdur and Hod, and he watched indifferently as the slim arm of the woman stretched up into the air as she stretched from her waking slumber. He returned the scrolls to the chest, and closed it, leaving it to the side of Him. She brought her hands down, rubbing her eyes as she rose from the bed, still dressed from the night before. She slowly moved back over to the table, and the collective unwashed dishes that sat upon it, gathering them up slowly as to avoid rousing the other members of the household. He watched with slight bemusement as the woman slowly struggled to gather all the bowls and cups in her arms before making her way to the door. He got up, silent like before, and went to intercept her at the door.

She was trying to open the door with her hands full but couldn't get a grip on the knob itself. She was about to put the dishes down when a rather large hand reached around and turned the knob for her. She looked up, surprise written on her face to find Him leaning over, pushing the door open slowly. She smiled, and mouthed a quick _Thank You_ before stepping out onto the porch, carefully balancing the stack of wares. He stepped outside with her, closing the door behind Him in mimicry of the exit He preformed earlier in the morning. She was already moving towards the road, and He followed behind, slowing His pace to a measured slow stride as to not overcome her. He had some questions, but would at least give her the decency of removing her burdens before asking them.

 **"I could carry those for you, if you'd like."** He said, His voice low, looking at the bowls and tankards that were wobbling slightly with each step in front of her face. She smiled, looking up to Him as they traversed the road down towards the mill. She shook her head.

"It would be rude of me to ask a guest to carry my dishes to be cleaned." she said, walking down the path. The slight decline however was a tad slick with morning dew, and because of it, she found her pace slowing, until, inevitably, she hit an upturned stone in the road, and started to fall forward. He reacted, His closer hand instinctively snapping out to grab her by the waist and hold her up, the other whipping out to grab the falling dishes, a miraculous display of dexterity as he not only caught them, but rebalanced the tipping objects in the motion. Gerdur barely even realized she had started falling to find that the dishes were now being carried by her guest, and where she had struggled, He held them aloft but with one hand. She regained her posture. "Well, I guess if you won't mind, I appear to be a bit clumsy this morning." He said at that, but held onto the dishes as they continued down the path.

The sunlight was at just the right angle rising over the mountains, and it's every presence was cascading off the currently calm waters of the river in waves of flickering golden beams. Fish eagerly broke the surface of the water in a multitude of places, jumping into the air before submerging beneath the water again. Gerdur had stopped at a small patch of land devoid of grass, gesturing for Him to put the dishes down. There wasn't enough space for Him to help, but she persisted and continued to kneel down and began to clean the dishes with the flowing water and a small scrubbing cloth that had appeared in her hands. He turned His attention to the scenery, watching with a neutral gaze of seeming disinterest. She had begun to hum slightly as she worked, her hands diligently cleansing the flecks of food out of the bowls.

 **"You wouldn't happen to know on how to sew would you?"** He asked abruptly, still watching the water. She didn't pause from a work, but she did look at Him, distracted by the question.

"I do, helps with patching up the ware and tear we get from life out here." she said, "It's much easier to just do it yourself then paying for it." A small amount of pride leaked in her voice, and He could understand that, relying upon yourself before others. He nodded, hands folding behind His back as He continued to watch the rising sun.

 **"Then I may be able to save you and myself the unsavory haggling that may have to occur with a merchant for a piece of clothing large enough for one such as myself."** He said, and she paused, confusion crossing her face for a second. **"Of course, I would be willing to pay for such a service if you name a price."** Now she was paying complete attention to Him, looking up from her kneeling position and gazing into His impassive features, confusion and inquisitiveness upon her own. He was un-used to a look such as that. _People would not question that which they did not know back home._

"How? I don't have access to anything big enough to cloth you, and last time I checked, the only gold you came with was in a small pouch at your belt." A smile cracked His features, the corners of His mouth barely curling up. He broke from His inspection of the wilderness and looked down upon her.

 **"If only everyone was so perceptive."** He said, **"Come, you are finished."** He did not wait for a response, reaching down and holding the tray of clean dishes within His hand. She stood up, still looking at Him, not at all understanding the dismissal of the topic but didn't speak as she brushed the grass off her dress and returned to the road. They were left to the ambience of the now awake village as they strolled quietly back up to the house.

* * *

By the time He had left the house, it was just before midday. both Ralof and Gerdur had tried to persuade Him against going this late, but He persisted, and the single day of travel would be shaved down by at least half if He kept a good pace. They relented, eventually, and with great thanks to His host, He bade them farewell with a parting gift; a by no means small sack of gold coins. There were questions at first, revolving around the sudden appearance of the chest, but Hod was the first one to connect the dots. there was celebration at the sudden "disappearance" of those bandits, and in return, He asked a favor of Gerdur of making Him something more presentable to wear before the Jarl. She agreed, and like lightning, He had unveiled the spoils of war before her, the material in question being several pelts, and a singular large belt with a buckle. The jewels and coins did not go un-noticed, however, Ralof and Fordnar were much more interested with the weapon pieces, and the axe. After a late breakfast, chest over shoulder, and a new pair of pants and boots, He was out the door, and with a heaping of instructions from Gerdur, was on the path to the greatest land trade city in Skyrim.

Whiterun.

He moved past the northern gates of Riverwood, crossing the river and began to move along the road as it twisted and turned, leaving Him alone with His thoughts. That was never a good thing. The ever present fog and near incomprehensible memories that filled His mind were far stretched and incomprehensible. It would be a long time before anything made sense, and He had already reviewed the previous _memories_ of the night, which left Him with nearly nothing besides an under tone of hatred for the green skinned sentient, and another sense of disappointment towards the bandits for working with such a creature. It was a near instinctive reaction He felt, and while there was sure to be plenty reason, He could not recount more than what He had mentally experienced that night. The creature within His memories was much larger, and held weapons even cruder than what it's seeming to be cousin had been equipped with. It would do no good to jump to conclusions, so it would be a passive objective to study those creatures if He came across them within a civilized environment. If.

Barring that train of inspection, all that was left was the Wilderness. Nature held a near eternal and unbroken beauty in the lands of Skyrim, and for a passing second he wished that all places could be like it. A balance, and while man did not rule it, they were just as much apart of it as the creatures that dwell within the tracks of unbroken nature. _As if that was our basic nature to leave good alone._ Yes, as if. The road He was on bent and turned, never straying far from the river, the cobblestones smoothed and featureless from the ages of natural wear. It was His second companion in His hours long travel.

And then suddenly, after a wide turn, the world dropped away from His vision, and for a split second, he felt concerned.

Banishing the feeling, letting further inspection reveal that the world was thankfully still fully there, however, the magnitude of the slope leading down from the mountains was spectacular in both size and scenery. The land opened up before Him like a gigantic jigsaw canvas of yellow and green fields, strewn with rivers that appeared thinner than His fingers from this distance but no doubt several meters wide that reached the mountains on the horizon. Farmhouses and Windmills dotted the land, intersected by stone fences and cobble stone roads, all centered around a large, roughly circular city. From here it was a spectacle, His eyes watching the masses as they moved about their day even from miles away. People passed through the districts, yet no one entered or exited through the gates. Surely not all of their business was self dependent? That didn't matter as His eyes swept to the northern side of the city, past a lone hall and several expensive looking houses, where the so called "Jewel of Whiterun" rested in ancient stone.

Dragon's Reach.

Everyone had been obsessive with it, even as He was leaving, a multitude of instructions, avoidances and some underlining rules to the keep. Most of them of course were all in good respect as guest, but there was one He would not do, even for a Noble of this land. he would not bow. _It is beneath one of my position_ , whatever it may be. He had turned His focus away from the rules and regarding's of nobility and their ilk, and more towards the history of the Keep. Supposedly, Dragons were natives of this land, ancient creatures that rules both land and sky even before man arrived upon Tamriel, un-matched in their power in both physical and 'magical'. Hod had informed Him that the Keep of Whiterun had been used to trap one of said creatures, a feat un-heard of anywhere else in the world, and the proof hung above the throne, the skull of an ancient dragon left suspended by a plaque, untouched for centuries on end. An apt name for such a place, symbolic even, for man to reach up to such mighty beast.

The river, the road's natural guide was but a few paces beside Him, the edge leading towards a declining waterfall that bounced and frothed. He kneeled beside it, as fish pooled near the edge, and lowered the chest to His side, before using His hands to cup the flowing water within, bringing the cool river water towards His mouth, sipping some before using the remainder to cleanse His rugged face. It would not be proper to attend a place of civilization with the face of a dirty beggar. To stand tall and demand an audience required one to look something of the part, and while He was clad like no noble Himself, He knew His presence would be humbling to those around Him. Picking up the chest, He rose once more, and began His decent into the valley.

* * *

He was nearly to the first of the fields when He saw it. The slope of the mountain had lead the road coming downward towards the southeast side of the walls, where as the gate resided on the west. The road widened out as it carved it's way through the fields fenced by cobble stone and wooden stakes, and at His current pace, He would arrive at the gates within the remaining half hour. The travel had left Him without fatigue nor harm, but as he gazed into the fields beyond, His gaze caught sight of a massive humanoid creature, that even from here was several feet taller than Himself, clad in a rough loin cloth and armed with what appeared to be a tree as a weapon, it's way along the road with a rough gaint from the west, closing towards the city. He was left momentarily confused, no one had mentioned a giant as a guard, which left one thought. The creature was hostile.

He was instantly in a state of motion. Where the journey before had been slow and paced, this new bout of speed left leather boots striding more through air than on the ground, as His footsteps nearly flew Him towards the target. The gates would not be approached within the half, but rather within eight minutes if He continued as such. The chest upon His shoulder rattled and clinked as it's contents moved about within, overshadowing what little sound He made as He charged head long at the giant. The wind smacked against His flesh, and He felt more alive than ever before. Something about the way He was moving was different.

Deep within His chest, a pair of drum beats synced together in equal measure and tempo, blood pumping and breaths even. There was slight thrill, but it subconsciously clamped down upon by a vice of unquestioning purpose and duty. There was more than just an instinctual feeling of speed and power, but rather, a knowing of one's self. He could feel it, both in mind and body. He was made for this. He was made for battle, and as He was careering towards Hs chosen foe, His body responded like a machine to the instantaneous change. Tme slowly blurred as His massive feet ate up ground, His sight showing Him everything as He approached, such as the field workers retreating towards houses, tools in shaking hands. Three figures had appeared from the city gates, clad in different armors of steel plate, leather bindings, and black iron. Guards along the road stopped at His passing, their cloaks fluttering in the trailing breeze, while those that faced the giant retreated back, drawing bows or swords, set about on the defensive they attacked first. The giant was un-harmed by such weapons, evident as the creature simply hit an offending attacker with it's hand, sending the unfortunate soul flying several meters away to crash into a cobblestone wall at a force that left the body broken. Arrows struck it's pale flesh and it let lose a growl, swinging the make shift club wide as it left guard either careering into the distance, or falling back towards the walls. He accelerated even faster than before.

He crossed the area in which the road lead up to the gate, mere seconds behind the warriors and a few seconds more behind the battle unfolding before them. He brought the chest down from His shoulder and under His arm, watching all the while as the giant moved from the road into one of the fields, partially destroying a cobblestone fence in the process as it chased a few errant guards. He maneuvered the chest in an underhanded motion, before sending it skidding onto the road itself, where it swiftly entrenched itself against another fence line in the ground. The three warriors from the city turned with wide eyes, right before He passed them, drawing their weapons from sheaths. The hardest looking one was clad completely in solid steel plate, and handled an impressive claymore as his weapon. The next beside him in multiple hides and furs, complemented by several inlaid studs of metal, who carried a solid shield of iron and a weighty axe. The final one was a woman who wore armor of iron and cloth that looked both ancient and new at the same time, her face covered in a series of swirling tattoos. She carried several javelin across her back, and wielded an equally ancient looking sword by her belt. He didn't even look back as He continued to race towards the giant.

* * *

Aela had seen plenty of things in her life, and killed many more. Giants were nothing new, but few and far between on her listing of kills, and in all truth to her, was a wonderful and primal experience that could never be replicated by any other creature that she had crossed. Something about killing a creature, just below humanoid in sentience, that was lacking in brains but making up for it in sheer brawn, that had wandered the world before Talos himself, was more than novel, but rather an addiction to be nourished. So when the Jarl's steward, Proventus Avenicci, came knocking for a party to take such a creature out, it would be undeniable to say that she didn't nearly pounce on the man at the opportunity.

Unfortunately, she knew that it would be both unwise and rather selfish to claim such a kill all on her lonesome, so, she 'offered to take', after much pestering from Kodlak, both Farkas and Ria to assist her in the competition of such a quest. They departed from Jorvasker and Whiterun within the hour, with words from the guards of the giant approaching from the west. To make matters worse, by the time they reached the outbound road, the giant was already fighting the city guard. they were left to jog towards the combat, with Farkas complain all the while because of his heavy plate. Maybe if the idiot hadn't gone for looking like a Dwarven Automaton, then they would be actually fighting the thing by now.

She felt a pair of footsteps as they were jogging, not the heavy tread of Farkas's plate, or Ria's leather boots, not even the weighty footfalls of the giant that was stomping forward into the fields, but it wasn't that. It was paced, nearly un-hearable over the violence unfolding in the fields, a rapid tempo based upon every second, it was far off, but she felt it.

A few seconds pass, and now the other two have noticed, but the footsteps had grown much closer, enough to make them all slow to a walking pace, hands slowly reaching for weapons. An erratic jingling had joined the footfalls, the noise carrying in the air but still muffled.

Three more seconds passed, and the footsteps were definitely behind them, and the jingling was the clatter of coins slapping against each other, as if someone was throwing a bag of them at the ground repeatedly. They went about drawing their weapons as the foot steps were nearly on top of them. Steel was un sheathed and javelins drawn.

They fully turned to get a good look at what was approaching, a chest flew through their feet on the road, and landed with a hearty slam against a fence post, they stared it in confusion.

And then something flew past them that left pelts shuttering, hair smearing across faces, and dirt and cobble kicking into their faces. Farkas swore, but that was caught in following wind buffer. She was the first to recover, turning to follow the rampant cloud of dust that was tearing up the road. Towards the rampaging giant in the fields. She gasped, and then began to sprint, pursuing the trail of swiftly dispersing dust. The other two had gathered their senses and were following behind her when the sky was split apart by thunder.

 **"You will face me, Monstrosity!** "

They finally got a good view of what had created the dust cloud as it, no He, suddenly jumped forward into the field, using the cobblestone fence line as springboard to launch himself at the giant, both hands held above head in the curled forms of fist, approaching with a terminal velocity towards the giant who was recovering from a particularly vicious swing it had thrown with it's club. It turned, ignoring the guards now fleeing from it, it's ugly face scrunching as it eyed the man that was sailed towards it. With a flex of mighty back muscles that would give a grizzly a run for it's money, the two collided as the man brought His fist down in a swing that connected at the center of the giant's skull. A crack like lightning to accompany the previous thunder, the giant was left stumbling the force of the blow driving it into a half crouch. She was under the impression that the man probably broke His hands with a move like that.

Her eyes, and those of her companions widen significantly when the man not only recovered from the swing, but actually continued striking at the giant with a speed that would be all but a blur to the untrained eye. He aimed for the neck, insides of the elbows, sides of the face, and ribs. The giant was not left on the ground, despite the swift, unarmed onslaught that was being pressed against it. Roaring in anger, it began to rise up and clumsily throw retaliatory swings in a manner of wild abandon, going for the shear force of the hits rather than aiming them. Despite the size of the club and the reach of the giant's arms, the man slid or ducked around the blows with the finesse of a dancer, returning five blows in the place of every missed swing. She noticed that despite the strikes being dealt, the giant was not exactly slowing down, merely being distracted from the guards and somewhat destroying the field they were in, to kill it would require sharpened steel, something that her companions and herself had in abundance.

She readied a javelin, aiming it towards the giant's center mass, waiting for an opening so not to hit the man in combat with it. A sudden wide swing had Him rolling, moving behind the giant as the swing passed over Him at chest height. She drew back and launched the five foot spear through the air, but it was not perfectly balanced, and dived off course, missing the chest and instead imbedding it within the giant's lower side, the beast giving a roar of agony as the steel head sunk in fully. That got her two companions to snap out of it, and hop over the fence with their weapons drawn, as well as gave the guards ample time to ready bows and aim at the creature. The giant however ignored it's previous assailer, and turned to her, raising it's club to charge, shaking free the previously imbedded spear, leaving a ragged hole in it's side, trailing blood and a bit of inner gore.

It charged forward, quickly gaining speed, club raising above it's head in preparation to strike. The ground rumbled, the world shook, and her vision narrowed solely upon the giant. It rampaged past Ria, her iron mace merely bouncing off of the toughened skin of the monster, leaving her to recoil away in shock. Aela drew another javelin, the world seemingly moving at a snails pace as she readied it, drawing back her arm in preparation for a second throw. Farkas readied his sword for swing as the giant approached the fence line, the enlarged steel sword rearing back, only to be sent roaring forth, the metal singing as it was swung with mighty force towards the giant's leg, looking to sever the limb. Alea smiled, surly such a blow would stop a creature, even of that size, in it's tracks.

Unfortunately, Farkas had miss timed the swing, leaving the blade, while still cutting through the skin and muscle, did not sever the creature's leg, but rather just made it stumble, roaring out. A giant hand retaliated, and with a mighty clang of calloused flesh hitting steel, sent Farkas scattering, his grip upon the blade faltering as he spun away, hitting the ground and collapsing in a heap. The giant snarled, and turned it's attention back onto her. She snarled in anger as the inner wolf roared within. It was midafternoon and she was surrounded by countless guards and civilians, so she definitely couldn't shape shift here, even though it would make this fight much easier on them all, it would leave her, and possibly the Companions' honor and wellbeing up for political and physical retaliation. She would just have to do this with man made steel and wit, instead of (un)natural claw and tooth.

With a scream of her own, she charged forward, shifting the javelin as if it were a spear as her feet ate up the ground, the Giant eagerly closing the distance. Arrows rain upon it's weathered form like metal hail, but do no obvious damage or discomfort to earn much more than a low rumble of a growl. From behind it's massive frame she saw the man's form, with the fallen javelin in hand, trailing behind the giant as He closed the distance much faster than herself. No sound was made as He neared the giant from behind, and as the Giant brought its club in full overhead, he slung the javelin at the same leg Farkus had struck, aiming it perfectly at the joint. her eyes widened at such a throw, seeing as how he had perfectly judged the misbalance of the weapon, and pinpointed it at the back of the giant's knee in the span of mere seconds on the move. The giant let out a roar at the attack, sharp with pain as the javelin severed tendons and held itself firmly within the rear of the joint. It stumbled forwards, tripping upon the now useless limb, its club going errant in its panicked journey to somehow stabilize itself, leaving her free to lunge forward, jumping as she thrusted her javelin into the thing's neck.

The air is rent with a fresher scream turned to a hacking choke as the javelin burrows into the soft flesh of the giants throat, the creature nearly falling face first on top of her as it lets of it's club to grab at the comically thin weapon sticking out of it's jugular. The giant's eyes bulge as it snaps the shaft off the weapon, leaving the metal head within, fresh crimson blood trickling from around the wound and onto it's hands. The gurgling continues as the giant gasp for breath, before it falls completely over, leaving her to scramble out of the way as it lands with enough force to shake the ground a final time. She inspects the body, which had sustained such punishment, counting the arrows sticking out of it as Ria and Farkas come to her side, giving little thought as the gaze towards the other combatant in the field. He walks up to the corpse, and puts His hand upon the javelin before ever so slightly pushing it further into the joint, before twisting it, and removing it. He brushes it against the giant's form to brush off the stray sinew and small amount of actual blood, before approaching them, twirling the spear backwards in hand. Up close He is bigger than she gave Him credit for, standing a full head and a half above her, with a shoulder length the width of a doorway, she discreetly sniffed the air, turning to a different sense, only to find that He smelt nothing of the sweat or natural air of Skyrim like she expected, and definitly nothing she could have identified easily. A traveler from far away lands, perhaps that was the best way to describe Him.

She looked up at Him as He came to a stop, and offered the javelin back to her silently, but raised an eyebrow as she noticed a small twitch of the man's nose on His otherwise unreadable face. he just replicated what she was doing, was it that visible, or was he able to also... She didn't want to think about that. She took back the offered weapon, and as soon as it left His hand, He turned and walked away, headed back towards the road without a sound. She looked back at her companions in surprise, they had definitely noticed it too with their heightened senses. Without a word she could see that they were thinking along the same lines as she was.

"Just who was that Man?"

* * *

 **Author's Note: Now I know I promised you guys a longer chapter for Whiterun, and I have no intention of breaking that promise, which is why I'm breaking the chapter into two parts, instead of just one. This also gives you guys something to confirm I'm alive, if a little busy, but also as a Holiday gift. Now, a few things, I have no idea how to explain the full communication/thought process of a Lycanthrope, but I feel like littlewhitecat (Who is the Author of the Harry Potter/WH40K crossover series "Inquisitor Carrow" which is an excellent read) has a very decent hold on it with being a sort of spirit animal (I.E Wolf). I know I don't upload a lot, but that's mainly because writing isn't my passion, yet I have these ideas I want to share. Anyway, I'll still try and update whenever I get in the mood for you guys.**


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